The Neighbor
by The Writing Bee
Summary: Once upon a time there was an assassin. And every day he killed people. Until one day he lived next to someone he couldn't kill. Once upon a time there was a police officer. And every day he arrested criminals... Jetfire/Starscream Armada AU
1. Day 1: Night

I've been assembling IKEA things for the past few days. It seems every day, I take another trip to that store for dad's girlfriend. Sure it's fun assembling them, but after a while…

Honestly, this story is mostly for Dre. Because we love shinanigans…

I wanted a Starscream story that was more light-hearted….

And you should all thank SUSINKO for Beta-ing!

IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTE:

This is an entirely human universe they're walking around in. No one was turned into a human. There are no giant transforming robots in this story. Sorry D:

---(9:32 p.m., Aperture Apartments, Apt. No. 27)---

_It's going well. I'll be settled by tomorrow._

Yep, that was what he'd said four hours ago. He'd made an estimate that by tomorrow, this whole apartment would have its basic amenities, and would look completely unsuspicious as a safe-house, meeting place, check-in bureau, and his own position of operations in this city. It was a big assignment, but he'd been confident in his abilities.

Until the IKEA furniture had arrived.

Tidal Wave had arrived with the large cardboard boxes, one under each arm, and had handed them to Starscream at the door. What he'd failed to mention, was that the boxes were about 100 pounds each. Unprepared, Starscream had nearly been crushed at the sudden weight that was deposited in his arms.

At the moment, he had assembled the eight-drawer dresser, the kitchen table, the coffee-table, and a night stand. He had two more dressers to assemble in the living-area, a desk, and he would be getting IKEA chairs plus couch tomorrow, with Demolisher to assist and inspect the rooms.

But that was in the future, what was right now, was the bed. And he'd kill just to get the damn thing assembled.

But there was a drawback. In manufacturing, two of the holes had been mis-threaded, so the posts would not screw into place. On top of that, this bed did not come with a language-not-needed instruction guide, so he'd spent a while just trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do from the tiny picture on the side of the box. He'd already fought with the bed for about half an hour before realizing it _couldn't_ be assembled.

He didn't have the power tools to rethread the thing (and teach it a lesson).

He didn't have a car to drive to the IKEA store and ask for a new one (Demolisher would arrive with his car tomorrow).

The IKEA store was closed anyway, along with its help over the phone.

He also didn't have a map of the area, and discovered his laptop and desktop had not been brought with him. Actually, the clothes that had been packed made no sense what so ever. But at least they were all very wear-able without making him look like a deranged freak.

He knew he should have taken the time to pack his own things. Never leave anything specific or delicate in the hands of Cyclonus. It was a miracle he didn't find a… dead bird or something with the random jumble of items he'd been packed.

At the very least, Starscream had packed his cane-sword and sword-umbrella. The sword-umbrella was currently next to the door, to be used in case of any uninvited guests. Quiet, deadly, didn't run out of bullets.

With everyone else it was just 'guns guns guns'. And Starscream kept guns too, but his cane-sword was always his choice weapon. A much larger custom sword was hiding in his closet, but it wasn't terribly portable in public places. When there was a planned strike though, he brought that thing with…

And it had been used many times. He'd killed many people for Megatron, privately and in assistance from others. From killing on guard-dog duty, to stabbing people in a crowd, he'd killed people. He'd dodged bullets, been shot, been cut, punched, and even electrocuted once. At his young age of 25, he felt like he'd faced every hardship and challenge there was.

And then the fucking IKEA bed came into his life. The thing that refused to work, and couldn't be 'persuaded' without proper tools. He was supposed to be low profile, so he couldn't throw it out the window either.

Finally he just kicked the half-assembled bed frame and walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

But there were no cups, because this was a new apartment. There were no plates or dishes either. All of those vital, small detail amenities had been forgotten, or were written off as 'will get later'.

So what did he have? Lots of cardboard; Foam strips from the IKEA packages; Paper booklets of instructions; About five-hundred dollars in cash; Clothes; Cell phone; IKEA furniture; Half of an IKEA bed; A mattress; Three swords and two hand guns; Ammunition for the hand guns. At least he'd already eaten, because there was no food in the fridge- oh, right. He didn't have a fridge yet either.

Did he pack any sheets or blankets?

Starscream didn't even need to check to answer that one. _NO._ Of course not. He'd NEVER done a full move before. So far from everyone else, he was supposed to be an extension of Megatron's power, to grow and give the Decepticons power in this city. He'd proven himself deadly, effective, and very intelligent. He was supposed to be on equal standing with Shockwave and Soundwave now (in theory), and carry out Megatron's will from three states away.

So WHY was he already wobbling on his new away-from-home legs? He'd gone to other cities and safe houses before!

A sudden knock on the door jerked Starscream out of his thoughts (he would NEVER admit he'd been panicking). He looked back to observe that the apartment was a mess of IKEA packaging material and unmoved furniture.

Curse Megatron and his cheap, IKEA shopping ways!

"Just a minute!" He called, though it sounded more like an angry yell that could be followed by flying objects.

Starscream scrambled to push the dresser against the wall, pick up the night stand and move it into the bedroom, and move the kitchen table into the kitchen. By the time he shooed the cardboard and foam bits into the hallway leading to the bedroom, whoever was at the door was knocking again. And WHY didn't his door have a peep-hole?

With one hand on the umbrella, he unlocked and opened the door slowly. The first thing he saw was a police badge. Complete with that red face stamped in the center of it. Next he saw a red-head with swept back hair and golden eyes. Said red-head was very tall, and smiling amiably.

Starscream looked up in barely suppressed horror. _Oh. My. God._

"Hey there, I saw that this apartment's 'for sale' sign was no longer up. I'm off duty now, so I was wondering if you needed any help." The tone of his voice suggested 'greatest guy in the world', and the smile helped to complete the picture of the perfect police officer.

Starscream was on the cusp of slamming the door shut and calling Demolisher to say that the safe house was compromised. But through some kind of inner strength pulling through, he didn't.

It took him a few seconds to stop staring and wipe the wide-eyed look off his face though, and he covered the transition with a slight cough. Very smooth.

"Do you know of any place that sells power tools?" If he just approached this like a normal civilian, he could get out of it…

"Oh sure! No place that's open right now, but I've got some back in my apartment. Here, I'll help ya get what you need." And in one mind-boggling move, Starscream was pulled out of his apartment and down the hall, feeling like an unwilling sacrifice to some unknown god, and that as soon as he reached the officer's apartment door, he was going to be pushed into a pit of lava. The part of him concerned with security screamed and ran for cover, patting himself desperately for his cell phone because he generally didn't carry his sword while assembling IKEA furniture (although he was thinking that now he should).

How were they supposed to do their evil things with a police officer living a few doors down?!

"Right here, just wait a sec," the officer fumbled for his keys a bit, letting go of Starscream's wrist as he searched. The first thing that went through Starscream's mind was a diagram. A little IKEA styled diagram and instruction booklet. The items required would be the officer's keys, handcuffs, and a cell phone. First, it instructed where to strike the officer in order to induce unconsciousness. Step two involved opening the policeman's door and dragging the body in (it recommended having help from another person). Step three involved removing the officer's handcuffs and handcuffing him to some sort of sturdy, heavy object (probably a bed), before tossing the handcuff keys in the trash, along with his other apartment keys. Step four detailed locking the apartment door and running back to his own apartment to call Megatron and tell him to kill who ever scouted this apartment, because there was a _police officer living four doors down the hall!!!_

As it stood, there was a mini-Starscream in his head that yelled '_FREEDOM_!', while Starscream's eyes locked onto the officer's gun, magazines, and handcuff pouch. Then the door opened, and Starscream was pulled inside. The place was a ridiculous mess. You honestly had to TRY in order to get things this messy.

"Err… sorry it's a bit messy. Hang on, the power tools are around here… somewhere…" the police officer stepped over some spilled books that looked glossy and brand new (and never read), before stumbling a little on a pile of laundry while making his way to the hallway closet. Starscream was at least thankful that the room seemed… sticky-free. It was just a lot of objects all over the room, no spilled food or anything. To Starscream, the messy living space translated as sloppy habits, which made the policeman less threatening. And then the questions started, "So, you just out of college or something? You looked scared out of your mind when you opened that door. First time on your own?" a sweater got tossed over his back and onto the floor. Starscream was unsure how to respond. Lie? Or tell a bunch of half-truths so he could remember them easily?

"Uh… yeah. How'd you know?" No, Starscream never went to college. He got involved in gang activity instead.

"Oh- you had that kinda look about ya. Must've gone to a college close to home, because I think this is your first time away from it. What was your major?" the officer stood up and lifted a tool box with him, turning around and kicking the closet door shut with his heel. Starscream stood close to the door, feeling torn between creating a new (legal) identity, and just fleeing the apartment.

He wasn't trained for this! He was used to being a shadow! Come in, kill people/make a deal for Megatron, and then leave!

"Eh… BA in science." Starscream put his hands in his pocket, stepping out of the apartment and turning around as the officer approached with the newly found tool box. Quick! What did he know about science majors?!

"Science? What do you want to be?" The man moved around Starscream to walk next to him as they made their way back to his apartment. Starscream walked faster,

"Chemist." He practically darted back into the apartment, walking swiftly into his bedroom and quelling the urge to hide behind the wall in an ambush. Luckily, the officer's current line of conversation was switched when he saw the half-made bed.

"What's wrong with it?" He crouched next to the bed rack (_abomination_) and set the toolbox next to him. Starscream found that standing against the wall (behind the officer) made himself feel a lot safer,

"Those two holes are mis-threaded. They need to be rethreaded in order for the posts to screw into it." Starscream maintained position, glancing to the doorway and seeing his cane sword next to it. Just leaning innocently against the wall.

"Ah, that's a pretty easy fix." He took a seat in order to better access the bedposts. Then he began working. It simply involved better leverage on the part of the post, and it would forcefully rethread the hole. After observing this, Starscream felt a little antsy. He could easily do that, and he wouldn't need help.

"I can do that. Give me another wrench." He approached the officer after a moment of thought, deciding he wanted the man out of his apartment as soon as possible. But now, he was waved away.

"Naw, I can handle this. Consider it a welcoming gift, ehhhh….? What's your name?" The policeman continued working, but after a longer-than-it-should-take-to-remember-your-own-name silence, he turned. Starscream was contemplating the cane sword in the back of his mind, and was going between the weapon, telling the truth, or making something up.

"… It's Starscream."

"Ah. Well I'm Jetfire. Ya don't have to call me officer or anything. But I _am_ a lieutenant." He turned back to the project at hand, putting extra emphasis on his title. Well, he didn't have a confidence issue.

One post was threaded in and put into place. Then he started on the next one, determined to talk,

"You sure you don't need more help than just this? I saw some unopened boxes out there in your living room."

"Yes, I'm very sure."

"What about the rest of your stuff? This place is still pretty empty looking."

"My uh… uncle… Demolisher will be coming tomorrow with everything else."

"That's good. You find a job yet?"

"No, not yet. I'm sure something will come up though."

"Naw, you gotta look for your jobs. Stuff doesn't just 'come up'."

"Uh… right… I'll keep that in mind."

There was another bout of silence that reigned over them. Starscream picked up the small graphic image of the bed to check what it looked like, and what was almost built. It was nearly complete, just four more screws after the officer was done.

"It's getting pretty late, don't you think you need just a little help to finish those things out there?"

"I can do it myself."

"Do you want to borrow my tools until you're done?"

"I already have everything I need."

"You're sure?"

"_Yes._" Good grief, what would it take to get this officer out of here? A fire?

"All righty then! You now have a bed. Or, almost. Hang on…" He spotted the empty holes and left over screws, reaching over to finish the project. Starscream had had enough though.

"No. No. You're done, I can finish the rest." He bent down and started repacking the man's… Jetfire's tool box, maneuvering around the larger's arms and hands to put away everything and close the lid with a final 'snap!', despite the man's protests.

"I can finish it, really."

"No, I'll do it. You've got… things to do I'm sure. Need to get up early tomorrow for work. I can handle things on my own now." Starscream grabbed under the man's arm and pulled, only managing to actually get him up when he stood on his own.

"Okay okay. Don't want to get in the way of your _independence_ or anything." Jetfire took his sweet time getting up, dusting his uniform off and picking up the box of tools. Starscream actually got behind him and pushed to hurry him along. It seemed the action surprised the officer at first, and then he found it amusing, having gone quickly the first few steps before putting on the breaks to slow down.

"Look look, you've got four more things to assemble." He pointed to the four boxes as they entered the living room, Starscream struggling to push the good Samaritan out of his apartment.

"No, it's just two. They're just-nng, in four boxes."

"Wow, still looks like a lot of work though." Jetfire tacked a slight chuckle onto the end of his statement, clearly finding the situation amusing.

"I can handle it!! Go- go do something else!" They'd finally gotten to the door, and it seemed like Jetfire was just laying limp against Starscream's efforts. Starscream's eyes caught the umbrella next to the door.

"Fine fine. I'll see you around then, eh?" Jetfire finally seemed to walk on his own two feet, making Starscream stumble a little before regaining balance. The officer stood outside the door, smiling and sweeping back some hair that had gotten into his face. Starscream glared at him and slammed the door shut, locking it with an audible 'click!'

He leaned his back against it and breathed a deep sigh of relief, thinking about what he'd do next. He'd make a list of things this apartment needed (like the peephole, to avoid opening the door for Jetfire), and he'd talk to Megatron about his current situation. He'd have done the former first, but he had no paper or pencil (or pen), so he took out his cell phone instead.

This new apartment wasn't worth having a dead police officer nearby. It would draw waaaaaay too much attention.

---(TBC?)---

Idea inspired by Demyrie's story 'Odd Couple'


	2. Day 2: Morning

Ooh look. I've assembled something that is NOT IKEA. And the goddamn final hex screws wont' go _**IN**_.

And I always… approved of Demolisher. I didn't really _like_ him, but he seemed like the only half-way sane Decepticon there. Always trying to keep everyone from not killing one another… sort of.

A/N: nothing.

---(7:52 a.m., outside of Aperture Apartments)---

Starscream had discovered a while ago, why IKEA furniture was so cheap. He'd, in turn, discovered why it was so heavy.

IKEA furniture was not made out of _wood, _oh no, it was made out of _pressboard_. And pressboard was just pulverized wood held together by an ungodly amount of glue. Then it was wrapped in a pretty, fake-wood print jacket, and sent out to get work done. Which led to Starscream thinking that IKEA was some kind of pimp that had many cheap whores to choose from. It all made sense in his head in one quick run through at the moment, and he wasn't really concentrating on that anyway. That strange little side-quest was being done in order to try and forget who he was waiting for.

To start off, Demolisher was late and Starscream had been waiting outside in cold, early morning for about 15 minutes. And he was tired from building all of that heavy furniture (a project that had gone late into the night). But Starscream didn't mind Demolisher that much, it was the whole 'oh by the way, Cyclonus is coming' thing that set him in a bad mood. He couldn't get Tidal Wave or someone to come along? Hell, Thrust might have been a better choice. At least he knew nothing would get damaged with Thrust here, and the schemer would probably enjoy a good IKEA puzzle or three. Even if he'd just sit there and dictate to everyone. But no, he had to lean against one of the large trees outside of his apartment complex (admittedly a very nice, large apartment complex, with plenty of space in each apartment) and wait for the rest of his things, plus one maniac.

And the maniac brought him back to the conversation he'd had with Megatron last night. It didn't last very long, but the result was still… aggravating. Starscream still remembered it, and still wondered if there was anything else he could have said that would have changed the outcome…

_Megatron, there is a police officer living four doors down from the safe-house. We need to move!_

_Does he suspect anything?_

_Does he-? No, he doesn't suspect anything. He thinks I'm a college graduate with a bachelors degree in chemistry who is on his own for the first time! But that's not the point! He is a danger to our operation here!_

_Starscream, there is danger everywhere. At least there, you know where the danger is. We'll just need to be more discreet conducting business. _(And Megatron had actually sounded very pleased about the whole situation)

_WHAT?! That is a ridiculous risk! We should move right now!_

_STARSCREAM. Do not question me. I will explain to you _why_ your current position is so favorable once, and only once. Do you understand?_

… _Yes sir._

_Good. First of all, the police officer is a deterrent to our enemies. Second, he offers us insight into the local police force. Third, a friendship with him or infiltration of the local police force will give us more power. Do you understand?_

… _Yes sir._

_Excellent. Simply come up with an excuse to explain any company you have. I don't care if we all have to become your family members or sister's boyfriend's fathers, just get it done! I want good ties with the local law enforcement. And Starscream?_

_Sir?_

_Get a job._

Click.

He was now forced to deal with that cop. And he had to find some sort of cover-job with few hours and whatever pay. All the money he would need, he wouldn't get from the cover job, but he'd still have to deal with… people. People he couldn't kill. One thing was for sure, he had to get a job that dealt with as few people as possible. And no food-related jobs.

And to think, he'd looked forward to his promotion.

Starscream continued to brood on minute details, making a list of jobs he would not accept. Actually, he'd been so focused on brooding and sulking, something happened that hadn't happened in a long time. Someone snuck up on Starscream.

Perhaps the most humiliating part was that the officer hadn't been trying to sneak anywhere. If asked, Starscream would say otherwise.

"You're up early."

It was all he could do to stop himself from drawing the cane sword hidden along his spine under his coat.

---(7:30 a.m. Earlier that morning, Aperture Apartments, Apt. No. 23)---

"Naw, really? He can't have beaten my personal best. It's… the best! He must have cut corners or something." Jetfire wandered around his apartment, dodging spilled objects and various clothes (dirty _and_ clean) as he walked with one shoulder jacked up to hold his cell phone against his ear. He was also in the middle of eating cereal. The only clothes he really took care of was a tuxedo (worn twice), and all of his uniforms. Everything else was… eh.

"Really! I timed him and everything! Blurr beat your time by three minutes!" Sideswipe was a morning person. Unlike everyone else (except for Blurr). He was also prone to misinformation out of enthusiasm (something that was very anti-Blurr).

"Wha-? That ain't possible. I'm tellin' ya, he must be taking a different route." Jetfire shoveled in another spoonful of cereal, starting to drink the milk out of the bowl.

"Well-… um… maybe. I didn't exactly follow him all the way through. He outpaced me while running to the park this morning…"

Jetfire hurried to finish the milk, swallowing and setting the bowl down before grabbing the cell phone with hand (he was getting a crick in his neck), "Hah! See? Now get out there and check out his route. I'll be at work in uh… half an hour?"

"Okay! Prime says you need to organize that little event where you go to the school with Hotshot an' stuff. It's called the uh..." Jetfire could practically hear the internal paper shuffling going on in Sideswipe's head, "... Police Day. Right. It's going on next week, Tuesday."

"Gotcha'. I'll handle it. Which school and what time again?" Jetfire cast an eye around and spotted his belt (complete with police accessories) over a chair. Now he just needed the rest of his uniform. Did he have any clean socks?

"Iacon Montessori. It's for kids in 5th grade and younger. Oh, and uh... 10:30 in the morning."

Victory! Clean black socks! "Right-o. Consider it done. See ya." click! The cell phone was snapped shut and put on the table, and Jetfire proceeded to look for the rest of his uniform.

---(Present Time, Outside of Aperture Apartments)---

Jetfire could only watch and take a quick step back as the brunette in front of him jerked in alarm and spun around as if expecting a monster to be looming behind him. He said nothing, but the horrified and alarmed stare said enough to the officer.

"Whoa there! Sheesh. You expecting someone?" He watched as the expression was covered quickly, Starscream's back straightening and glancing away. But the original position he'd been standing in was rather slumped. Jetfire could only conclude it was because he'd finished building all of those pieces of furniture last night.

"Yes, I am. Demolisher should be here soon." he slid his hands into his pockets as he spoke, looking back at the street and anywhere but at Jetfire.

"Oh. Your uncle right? If he gets here soon, I can help. I still have time." Jetfire glanced at his watch. No, if he left right now he'd be on time to the police station. Where the stack of paperwork and complaints about the police department would be waiting for him. What better excuse than doing a good deed? Except Starscream didn't look enthused at all by the offer.

"No, it's okay. I've got help coming anyway. If it can be called 'help'..." The last bit was muttered with some kind of dark forboding, and was done as he drifted off to look back at the street. Jetfire watched as he stared at the street, clearly willing the car he was waiting for to appear. But nothing of the sort happened.

"Well then maybe I can give you a hand anyway. If your help is no good-"

"The help will suffice. You should go to work instead." Starscream looked back quickly, shaking his head. Jetfire couldn't help but grin. The guy was trying so hard to be independant, it reminded Jetfire of when he was young_er_ (not _young_ because he wasn't _old_). Even if he refused his help time and time again, Jetfire knew a continuously offered hand was always appreciated. He got a bit lost in memories of his first apartment, and meeting Optimus Prime, getting promoted to Lieutenant...

"Nah, I can stick around. Did you get all your furniture built?" Jetfire shifted his weight to one leg, prepared to stand there for a while and get to know the new tenant more. He watched as the other's shoulders tensed and shook a little at the very vague mention of IKEA furniture, "Hey hey, don't get mad at me. I offered to help. But uh... what else do you need to build?" he could stop by later today and help the smaller man move in more. The apartment had looked rather bare and devoid of personality when he'd entered.

"... Some chairs and a couch..." He trailed off, sounding like he really didn't want to give up the information. Or he was just busy thinking about other things. Jetfire decided to break the ice just a little.

"Well, you going for a theme or anything?" he stepped forward more to stand next to Starscream, looking at the cold morning mist and being glad for gloves. Yes, gloves were very nice in this weather. And judging by the look Starscream gave him, he guessed it just got a little colder.

Starscream jumped suddenly, hand patting at his front pants pocket and pulling out a cell phone that was on vibrate. He looked at the number for a moment, scowled, and flipped the phone open.

"Where are you?" The younger resident of Aperture Apartments ground out. He was probably just angry that he'd been waiting out in the cold for a while. Why didn't he wait inside for a phone call anyway?

Jetfire watched as his face dropped from terse and touchy to wide-eyed and fearful. He paled as well.

---(Starscream's Point of View)---

The officer was here again. AGAIN. Talking to him and trying to be helpful, when the man's mere _presence_ put Starscream on edge. Was he going to be constantly hanging around and asking if he could help? And he couldn't just snap and tell him to get lost, because then Megatron-

Starscream was alarmed by the phone call. He normally kept it in his jacket, so the whole 'holy shit what is that on my leg?!' feeling was new to him. A quick caller ID check showed that Demolisher was calling him. And honestly, Starscream wasn't sure if his timing was good or bad.

GOOD: It was a distraction from the police officer, and Demolisher was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago.

BAD: The OFFICER was still standing next to him. And he hadn't informed Demolisher of his new 'uncle' position yet.

"Starscream, we're in route. We should be there in three minutes." Demolisher sounded a little hurried. Well, not 'worried', maybe more along te lines of a mild panic.

"Oooh! Ask him how he's doing? Our little baby bird has left and gone _so_ far from home!" Cyclonus's voice was quite distinguishable without him talking directly into the phone.

"Cyclonus! Keep an eye on the road!" And it was at that point that Starscream know why Demolisher sounded hurried, and why they were late. The idea was horrifying. Worse, there was a police officer next to him that would probably arrest Cyclonus on the spot as soon as he did something illegal upon arrival. Like run over a pedestrian. Lord knows, his rap sheet was long enough to wrap himself up in it and pretend to be a mummy. And then his relationship with the officer would recieve a big black mark after he realized the kind of company he kept. And then he would run his own record and find out he'd been lying. WHY did Megatron bother sending Cyclonus out on errands not involving violence?

Having the maniac in a fight was invaluable. Nothing brought enemy morale down more than a cackling, homicidal maniac that was borderline insane. Unfortunately, the traits didn't come with an off-switch.

"Demolisher, tell me you didn't let Cyclonus drive!" And Starscream had kind of been hoping for a sports car. If Cyclonus was in a sports car, he'd immediatly want to see how fast it went.

"Hey gimmie that!"

"No! Cyclonus! You're driving! Hey!"

"HelOOOooo Starscream! Sorry about denting your new car!" Starscream paled. His car was already damaged?! And Cyclonus was talking on a cell phone AND driving?! He had enough trouble staying on task as it was!

"You did what?! Give the phone back to Demolisher right now!" Starscream's fingers curled into a fist that pounded the tree he was leaning against.

"Nah, I was just kidding. Your car is fine. We'll be there sooooon!" Starscream could make out a loud honk from some other driver, and then hear Cyclonus yell at the driver in question. Then he heard Demolisher yell at Cyclonus. Then the phone went dead as it was (hopefully) hung up.

Starscream stared at the phone in disgust, holding it far away from himself and reading the little screen that said the call had been ended. He flicked it shut and dropped it into his coat pocket. He didn't even want to think about the police officer next to him, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and was possibly recalculating his perception of the new tenant. Just what he needed...

---(Jetfire's Point of View)---

Jetfire had been expecting a quiet college-graduate student with sheltering relatives. After all, if this was his first time away from home, he'd have to be sheltered. And if he didn't know he had to go out and LOOK for a job, he was _really_ sheltered. Probably high-class. And if he was tired of all the babying he'd gotten when he was grown up, that could explain why he was so dead-set on not recieving help.

If he had unstable relatives, it didn't exactly mean that he wasn't still high-class. As all of the reality TV shows indicated, money can do very strange things to people. At the same time, he was started to become more and more curious about the kind of relatives this young man had.

"So uh... what does Demolisher do for a living?" He watched as Starscream shoved his hands deep into his pockets and scuffed his heel, glaring at the ground.

"Paperwork stuff. I don't talk with my family a lot." he heard a distant honk, and looked up at the nearest corner. Jetfire looked as well. And his curiosity upgraded into concern.

A red pick-up truck turned the corner a little too quickly, and Jetfire could see boxes of IKEA furniture shift to the right in the bed of the pick-up. A man in dark green clothing was gripping onto the rolled down window, looking in fear for his life, and a man in a loud orange vest looked like he was having a little too much fun behind the wheel of the pick-up. A glance at Starscream showed the brunette was just as concerned as him, and he visibly winced when the truck's breaks were slammed on and the vehicle skidded half-way into the parking spot right in front of them. Starscream raised an arm up and took a step back, and Jetfire took three steps back. The IKEA furniture slid to the front of the truck's bed, slamming into the cabin. The box on the end fell over after the momentum released it.

Starscream raised a gloved hand to cover his face, other arm crossing over his abdomen. Jetfire just watched his relatives get out of the car.

The man in green opened the door and scrambled out, while the driver pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the truck as light as a feather, "Wooh! She's no helicopter, but she's got a sturdy engine!" he started whistling 'Solid as a Rock' as he patted the hood and tossed the keys up and down. The passenger had slammed the door shut and turned on the other as soon as balance had been regained,

"What were you trying to do?! Get us killed!? You ran THREE-"

"Demolisher." Starscream tried to interject. He was ignored.

"RED LIGHTS! Cut off two people, and probably damaged the furniture!" 'Demolisher' raged at who Jetfire could only guess was Cyclonus. Both of them were older men.

"Oh RE-_lax _you old worry wart. I got us here in one piece didn't I?"

"While breaking almost every traffic law there was! How did you get your license anyway?!"

"Oh, well you see I pulled the driving instructor aside and-"

"UNCLE Demolisher." Starscream raised his voice, cutting off what would have undoubtably been a very interesting story that would have required a mental note on Jetfire's part. As it stood, he was already making one. Demolisher turned to look at Starscream in some confusion, as if he just realized he'd been standing there,

"... Uncle...?"

"I know I don't normally call you uncle, but you were ignoring me. And my _friend_." He guestured to Jetfire, who was having reservations about greeting the two men. Jetfire realized he had also been invisible to the bickering duo, and both looked him up and down with sudden tenseness and resentment. Then Cyclonus giggled,

"Ooh, Screamer is already making _friends_ with such upstanding citizens! Good morning _Officer_." Cyclonus tossed the keys to Starscream who caught them and put them in his pocket. They exchanged a quick look before Cyclonus turned to walk back to the truck and unload the boxes. Jetfire shifted his vision back to Demolisher, who seemed to be glaring at him and sizing him up. To break the ice, Jetfire offered a hand shake. The offer was stared at as if it were some exotic food dish with questionable origins, and then it was turned down. Now Jetfire felt a little insulted, and looked at Demolisher with rising contempt as he wondered WHY.

He was about to attempt conversation when Starscream walked just to the right of him and grabbed his arm, dragging him away to the side of the stairs leading into the building. The younger man seemed to be thinking while dragging Jetfire away, and turned to face him after a moments pause, unleashing what had been on his mind, "You should go. I didn't really want you to meet my... uncles. They're not... people friendly." he'd paused as he searched for the right words.

"Yeah, I can tell that," Jetfire was feeling a little ticked at their rude behavior, but he wasn't about to take it out on Starscream. You couldn't help or choose who you were related to, "What's up with your uncle Cyclonus? He keeps acting like that, and he'll get more than just a ticket," Jetfire observed a grimace that seemed to say such a thing had already been done more than once. The look made Jetfire raise a mental eyebrow, "... and what does your uncle do exactly?"

There was a rather long pause, and Starscream flicked his eyes to look around Jetfire at the man in question. They could hear bickering in the background as boxes were hefted out of the truck, "He... hunts." And Jetfire wasn't sure why, but he felt as if the word _people_ had belonged at the end of the reply.

"Hey Starscream! Get over here and help!" Demolisher yelled, managing to hold one of the smaller boxes over his shoulder, waiting for Cyclonus to lift a longer and heavier box with both arms. Starscream snarled a reply,

"I'll be there in a minute Demolisher," He looked back at Jetfire, even more irritated, "You can help later. For now, look after yourself." The kind advice sounded more like '_Now GO damnit'_ to Jetfire, but he shrugged anyway.

"Okay, I'll see you later then." Jetfire stepped around a passing Demolisher, who was glaring at him suspiciously. The officer raised his hands in a peaceful guesture and skirted the man before pulling out his car keys and heading for his car. Sheesh, it was a wonder Starscream hadn't moved to his own place sooner, he could hear the abrasiveness between all three of them as he walked away.

"Be careful with that!" Starscream. There was a 'smack!' noise as a box was dropped.

"Aagh! My foot!" Cyclonus.

"Hurry up you two. Ah, at least this place has an elevator." Demolisher.


	3. Day 2: MidMorning

A/N: I need to work on character... exploration? To be able to define someone and who they are, why they do things. The whole "What's my motivation?" thing. If you'd like to kabitz with me (chat/discuss/etc.) on such a thing, feel free to message me.

Aside, I love tarajcl (on FanFiction) and the way she writes characters. Especially Starscream and Jetfire. She writes them as untouched by fandom as a fan can write them.

---(9:08 a.m., Iacon Police Department)---

Jetfire tried to sneak into work. Stopping to talk with Starscream and meet his... _relatives_ had taken time. And while it was partially planned, he had to deal with the consequences. And that Cyclonus guy had reaaaally made him concerned. If there were ever a bad influence, Cyclonus would be it. But nothing illegal had been done (that Jetfire had witnessed), so he didn't want to pry. All he wanted to do right now was avoid a lecture about setting an example for everyone else by being on time. (What was really awkward was finding out that setting a good example and being a model citizen really _was_ in his job description)

Unfortunately he was a 6'3" man with flaming red hair. On top of that, there was Sideswipe yelling out his name while running toward him. Jetfire decided all that was missing were banners and lights announcing his (late) arrival. He cringed and paused before turning to the younger officer, "Yeaaah... Hi."

"Optimus was looking for you!" Sideswipe possibly _could_ have yelled it louder. Jetfire happened to know that for a fact.

"Err... was he? What for?" He took a quick look around, observing other people looking in their direction to see what all the commotion was about. Jetfire waved at them, feeling incredibly stupid but unable to think of anything else to do. They looked away though, so his idea (if it could be called that) worked.

"I dunno. I mean, it didn't sound urgent or anything..."

Jetfire absently waved a hand at Sideswipe now, "Okay okay okay. I'll talk to him, hm? Thanks." he put a hand on Sideswipe's back, guiding him away into some other direction that didn't go toward his own office. That was something else cool about being a lieutenant. You got your own office. On the way to said office, he stopped by Hotshot's desk. Normally he would have just said a passing 'good morning', but on approach he noticed the blonde was doing something kind of off.

Hotshot was staring blankly at a stapler. He also looked really tired, and his posture was steadily melting over the desk as he leaned on his elbows (presumably to get closer to the stapler). At least he didn't look depressed or miserable. Jetfire made his entrance by moving the stapler over and taking a seat on the edge of the desk. When he got no reaction, he waved a hand infront of Hotshot's face.

"Uh-Huh? What? Yes?" Hotshot blinked and shook his head, looking up. His eyes were sharp for a few moments before going glassy again. Jetfire grinned and tilted his head a bit.

Hotshot had about one year under his belt now on the force, and was a good person any way he was looked at. Except he tended to hold onto... _things_ with a vengance. Whether it be guilt or fury, Hotshot never forgot anything. EVER. (It made pranks a little difficult, due to the fact it could be a month until Hotshot exacted his revenge, and you had entirely forgotten about the threat)

"You gonna ask her on a date, or you just gonna stare?" Jetfire's grin widened when Hotshot looked confused. He pointed at the stapler to clarify, and watched as things clicked into place in his head. Hotshot sighed and ran a hand through his hair,

"No... no... already went on a date... tired..." he lowered his face into his hands and heaved out a deep sigh. The senior officer laughed,

"Oooh, she tucker ya out?" Jetfire took the oportunity to lean onto the desk more, and further let his presence invade... everything. He waited while Hotshot gathered... whatever it was he was gathering. Thoughts, memories, snappy comebacks...

"We went paintballing. Right now, everything hurts." His shoulders sagged back down, melting over the desk again. Oh, he was a depressing sight.

Jetfire brushed some imaginary dust off of his pants before returning to the situation, "Why, was she a good shot?"

There was a long pause before he got an answer, "... It was Arcee."

Jetfire whistled, "Damn! Into older women are we?" and he winked at Hotshot when he lifted his head to glare at him.

"... She's not that old. And we didn't... _do_ anything... okay? It was more like a... hanging out date..."

"And then she kicked your ass at paintball." Jetfire's shoulders were shaking a bit in repressed laughter, despite of the fact Hotshot was still glaring at him. He gave the younger officer a pat on the arm before getting off the desk and sauntering to his office. Yeah, that did make him feel a little better.

The door to his office was unlocked, and Jetfire flicked the lights on. And yes, the stack of papers he'd left on his desk had not gone away overnight (despite his hopes). The next thing he sighted was his coffee mug, and he walked over to it and picked it up with fondness and enthusiasm. Still a ring in it from yesterday's coffee... and the day before. It could take one more day... or two. Jetfire kept telling himself that the heat from the coffee killed any germs there might be.

He lifted the first couple of papers on his desk in the stack in order to refresh his memory of what he had to do. Then he wandered out into the hallway in search of coffee. But due to his late arrival, there was nothing but a slight brown shine discoloring the bottom of the pot. Resigning himself to his task (and its rewards), he put fresh grounds into the machine. The used, wet, soppy grounds were taken to the trashcan, and the empty pot was taken to the sink in the bathroom to be refilled. Again, this was justified by the fact the heat from the brewing would kill anything in the water.

Jetfire was staring at the water slowly fill the glass pot, wondering if there was any way to make it go faster. Come to think of it, coffee brewed even slower... and he didn't have that kind of patience. He'd probably just go see Optimus in the mean time.

He sighed and shifted weight to his other foot, seeing the pot almost halfway full and wondering if he really DID need a full pot. It would be nice...

Oh bah.

The bathroom's faucet was turned off and the pot removed. Then Jetfire looked in the mirror and nearly had a heart attack.

_HOLY-_

"You're late Jetfire." The slow, deep voice of Sideways stated, standing with his arms crossed behind the senior officer. Sure the man was shorter by a decent ammount (a mere 5'6"), but there was something about him that made Jetfire really uneasy. Maybe it was all of his undercover work, and the fact he'd kind of 'gone native' because of it. It could be his utterly silent and stealthy approach to everyone, and his knack for appearing... just anywhere. Needed or not, he would just appear and sidle in among everyone else.

And no one really knew where he came from either. There were rumors he'd done CIA work, wich might explain his alarming success rate at every file he'd been handed, (Actually, he wasn't successfully at EVERYTHING, just most things.) and Optimus himself hadn't managed to get much information either. All he knew was that Sideways was transfered to Iacon's police force, and that his past knowledge would be valuable. The Police Chief had made note to do more digging later.

Refusing to show how ruffled he was, Jetfire turned and stared into slanted pink eyes, letting out a sheepish grin. It was more like baring his teeth though, "Ehh... yeah. Stopped to help move in a new tenate. Still not done. Might be late tomorrow." it annoyed him that he wasn't able to make his excuse come out smoothly. But he was kind of distracted by making sure Sideways wasn't concealing any kind of weapon to be used as soon as he turned around. It always seemed like the undercover agent was up to something...

And for the record, Jetfire was usually on time. He enjoyed his line of work (just not the paperwork part).

"... I see. It's not very becoming of a _lieutenant _to neglect someone in need. But at the same time, he needs to set an example for society by being on time. Quite the predicament," the slow smile gave Jetfire a quiver-worthy twinge, and the slow way he said it just enhanced the creepyness. Then he reached up and tapped the side of his nose, smirking, "I'm sure you'll find a way to balance it out." then he turned slowly on his heel and left Jetfire feeling only slightly paralyzed. He watched as Sideways walked to one of the bathroom stalls and closed the door.

And then he got the fuck out of the bathroom. Going at a speed that a professional power-walker would have been proud of, he almost missed the coffee machine. The pot was replaced, and Jetfire turned the little machine on, repressing a shudder. The bathroom was already an awkward place, but with the addition of Sideways...

Let's just say Jetfire was willing to drive home the next time he had to use the toilet.

While he contemplated how creepy Sideways was (and just what gave him the _right_ to be so damn creepy), he listened to the coffee maker boil away and heat the water. Eventually, he decided to file away the encounter in another mental box labled 'Sideways' to be dealt with later. The coffee was still not done, and staying in one place was making him feel antsy and vulnerable. He decided a trip to Prime's office would fix it.

Normally he approached the office with a healthy ego and shining brovado, but today he was feeling a bit lessened by previous encounters. Actually, his morning would be full of chilly encounters. It started with Starscream, and ended with Blurr.

Blurr was already inside of Optimus Prime's office when Jetfire arrived, so the officer decided to hang out at the doorway as he waited. Optimus was leaning over the desk and resting on his elbows as he listened to the resident FBI agent,

"Scavenger hasn't gotten any closer to finding the source of the counterfiets. And they're starting to turn up as drug money big time." Blurr had remained standing, arms crossed in front of Optimus's desk.

"And the gambling ring you busted last month?" Optimus's face looked tired and serious as he came to terms with the ugly belly of his beautiful city. Jetfire was just reminiscing a little. He'd been a part of that gambling ring bust. Let's just say he did it and he'd do it again.

"The men with the counterfit money were questioned. It was just a coincidence." Jetfire could see Blurr's hand tighten into a fist. If there was anything the FBI agent disliked, it was something not being efficient or going the way it should. That happened a lot when you were working with criminals. Blurr was angry a lot.

Optimus let out a tired, fatherly 'hmm' and shut his eyes. Normally, organizations (like the FBI and local police forces) didn't get along very well and fought over jurisdiction and territory during an investigation. Optimus had gone above and beyond to avoid this, and had gained Blurr's respect in the process. But it was only Optimus who had that priviledge.

"Has Scavenger found any-? Jetfire?" Optimus opened his eyes and saw his lieutenant standing in the doorway, apparently getting comfortable as he settled in to listen. Jetfire straightened slightly, ready to state that he could wait for Blurr to finish before stepping in to talk with Optimus.

But Blurr had turned at the officer's name, and narrowed his eyes in a full-blown death-glare that could have come complete with lasers. In three quick strides he was at the door, and had shut it in Jetfire's face (because he had the sense to step out of the office, instead of stepping in). He hadn't slammed it, but it wasn't a soft close either. Just a sharp 'snap!' in front of Jetfire. The lieutenant blinked, and watched as Blurr appeared in the window to glare again and then shut the blinds.

"Sheesh..." That guy was so uptight...

---(10:23 a.m., Aperture Apartments)---

"And Megatron told you to stay here? That's crazy! Er, I mean..." Demolisher started searching for a screwdriver. He found it (not being used) next to Cyclonus, who was working with Starscream to put the couch together.

"I know... but those are Megatron's orders." Starscream was using another screw driver to connect two bars for the couch. In the apartment there were only two screwdrivers; a flat head and a Phillip head. And honestly, either could be used on any screw or bolt IKEA had given them.

Not surprising (but still aggrivating), Cyclonus giggled, "Oooh, _someone's_ gotta _be-haaaay-ave_! No throwing people out windows or stabbing them in the back!" and yes, he was refering to past events. Starscream's bad temper and deadly skills did quite a bit for him amongst the Decepticons. It tended to detract from his social tolerance though.

"Shut up." Starscream growled, slamming in another bolt and starting to tighten it ferociously. Cyclonus giggled again, and Starscream refrained from stabbing him with the screwdriver.

"Hey! Starscream, what else do you need?" Demolisher decided to stop a fight before it broke out. He put down the screw driver he had been using and pulled out a palm-pilot to take notes. The younger man tightened the screw down with a vengance and then sat back, glaring at the couch frame. It was actually a decent couch. And it unfolded into a bed.

He glanced away to the side and tried to exhale his anger, "A fridge. Cups, plates, bowls, silverware. Cooking pots and whatever. Power tools. And a peephole for the door. I'd also like my_ computer_ and _laptop._" Starscream turned to glare at Cyclonus, who giggled out of either nervousness or mischevious memories. He couldn't tell.

"Right. You have a new name you want? Because I was thinking of NightScream-"

"Starscream. I already told that cop my name." Starscream looked away in order to find the IKEA instructions for the couch. He'd also done this to negate and ignore the lecture he was about to get.

"What?! What kind of _security _is that?! What if he looks up your juvie record?" And that thing rivaled Cyclonus's juvenile record (it was half as long, but still rather impressive). Since then though, Starscream had gotten better at dissapiering and covering his tracks.

"I was panicking, okay?! You called me 'Starscream' infront of him anyway!" The instructions were thrown down and the couch was folded into a upright position. He stomped over to the other box and opened it, pulling out the cushions.

Demolisher fidgeted a little, "... We can't erase that record. If he finds it, he won't trust you anymore." Which meant Starscream would lose the element of surprise, and suspicion would be cast on him if something bad happened.

The cushions were thrown onto the couch, and Cyclonus started to tie them down, "You might have to kill him if he finds out." another giggle.

"I'm not so sure about that," Starscream scowled and began working on the other side of the couch, tying the cushions down, "I'll have to move if that happens. And then I'll get the police department after me. He's a lieutenant." And being a lieutenant had to mean something for his skills. He enjoyed a good challenge and a good run, but a long-term one was not attractive. Either from Jetfire or some vengeful law enforcement agents.

Demolisher had a rather stony 'suck it up' look on his face, "We do what we have to for the Decepticons. If you don't want to kill him, then get arrested or deal with it. Just don't let it give trouble to the rest of us."

"I can take care of him." Cyclonus grinned, gesturing the phillip screwdriver rather suggestively. There was a collective pause between Demolisher and Starscream, and a look was exchanged between them as they reached a conclusive agreement.

"Let's... keep that as a last resort." Demolisher looked back to the instructions for the chair he was working on.

"Yeah, I want a building to come back to," Starscream grumbled, standing up and looking at the couch. Good. Now the desk...

"Awwh... you people and your low profile..." Cyclonus tossed the screwdriver away and stood up, kicking over an empty box. Building stuff was boring, blowing up stuff was much more fun.

"I'll be careful. Just give me clean numbers and I'll deal with the name." Starscream pulled over the box containing his new desk. Everything was a dark stained and red color, so things didn't look jumbled. Would he get cable and a TV? He'd have to get internet later, along with other hygeine items he'd rather get himself.

"Tch, your funeral," Demolisher made a few more notes, "I'll be back later with your computer, laptop, and resume for your job."

Starscream made a combination growl/groan and his shoulders sagged as he was reminded of that... _thing _that needed to get done. What was there to do that wouldn't annoy him too much? He heard Cyclonus giggle again, and shot him a glare. Then he picked up the screwdriver, and Cyclonus shut his mouth and looked away.

"By the way, what's your cover?" Demolisher paused in putting the palm-pilot away, figuring they should work out what they could with what they had left. Starscream was tearing off the cardboard from his new desk,

"College Graduate. BA in chemistry. First apartment away from home." he ripped the cardboard away and tossed foam packing strips off to the side in search of the instructions.

"And we're your... uncles." Demolisher noted the other things down, looking for holes in the new identity. He'd pass it along to Megatron. Starscream would have to either take notes himself, or remember it.

"What college did you go to?"

"Ehh... Vos University?" He wasn't going to say Charr, that was where Megatron was. Making things close to the truth was useful, but it could also be his own undoing.

"Go research or visit the place. Parents?" As if Starscream wanted to think about them. He certainly didn't talk about them,

"Deceased."

"Then where are you getting your funds from?"

"... egh."

"Get some chemistry books and study. Your mommy ran off with another man when you were 18, daddy is a private buisness owner who moved overseas and travels a lot." Cyclonus swooped in to save him, grinning at the opportunity to create Starscream's past. He got a glare over the shoulder, but was ignored otherwise. Demolisher was writing the notes down anyway. They just needed enough to cover casual conversation and single-look overviews.

They decided Starscream wouldn't have siblings. All of the furniture was finished and built and relocated in another two hours, and they discovered they needed a trashcan as well. Demolisher took his list of things to do and decided the truck would be needed to deliver everything else. The keys were taken away from Starscream, and Cyclonus was not allowed to drive this time.

Starscream trudged back up stairs and to his apartment. After the door was closed, he set about finishing his home security. A handgun was placed ontop of the desk, a reminder to be taped under it as soon as the duct tape was bought. Other places were noted to hide knives, and he searched the walls for a place to keep more sensitive material. He also made note to buy a bookshelf.

By the time he was done, it was about 1 p.m.. Starscream noted he hadn't eaten yet, and that he needed to scout the neighborhood. He grabbed his favorite red and white jacket, his keys, cell phone, and wallet before setting out.

Local connections also needed to be made. Thankfully, they had contacts in this city already, so Starscream wouldn't have to break too many heads to get where he wanted.

---(TBC)---

Has anyone ever witnessed two ADD/ADHD people having a conversation about a serious subject matter? It's very strange. Things you wouldn't believe flip-flop and overlap into the conversation, and they can still stay on task. Gives it a really surreal feel to it.


	4. Day 2: Afternoon

A/N: If you see any unfamiliar names, disregard them as OCs. Because they are (mostlikely), and are being used to fill in whatever needed spaces.

---(1:42 p.m., TripleCharger Cafe)---

Starscream had walked down the street, exiting to the left after leaving his apartment building. It wasn't that exiting to the right had anything wrong with it, but the stupid little logic he'd picked up somewhere that 'right must be right!' ticked him off enough to turn left instead. Thus, he walked to the left.

He was also unarmed, and the thought unnerved him greatly. Mostly because in his home neighborhood, being armed kept you undesirable as a target for whatever freak stumbled out of an alleyway. But another (different) fragment of logic cropped up to comfort him, _'Being unarmed is only a temporary state of mind'._

Oddly enough, they had been said by the same person.

Currently, the second piece of logic was further being reinforced by the cafe silverware in front of him. While he wasn't all together sure he would actually need to use them (you could only do so much with a sandwich), their proximity made him more comfortable. (Something that was actually necessary because he couldn't find one strategic position in the cafe.

There was glass all around the seating area inside, and doorways were at every 'dead end'. Booths were a cornered death-trap waiting to happen, and the tables left your back completely exposed inside of the cafe. He'd stepped outside to look over all of his options, before deciding he'd have to deal with the threat of a long-range gunshot to the head/being jumped from around the corner. His current position was near the outside corner of the cafe, keeping his back _somewhat_ to the wall and using a metal napkin dispenser to reflect and cover his blind spot. This way, he could see people walking on the street and entering/leaving the cafe.

Later, as he became more used to the city and familiar with his surroundings, he would be more relaxed and maybe less defensive.)

Thinking about the silverware brought him to thinking about his food, and considering over watching his food being made. That would mean going into the kitchen. Once, he'd been in the kitchen of a restaurant, and had been amazed with all of the... _tools_ that chefs used to prepare food. Starscream had come to the quick conclusion that even though he didn't know how to cook, he could kill someone with any kitchen utensil. And as soon as his target had stepped into the kitchen, he'd done just that.

After he'd made a bloody horrible mess, and the owner of the restaurant had complained to Megatron (who he was paying protection to), Megatron had sent Starscream off to a slaughterhouse to learn about anatomy. If asked, Starscream would have said everything he knew, he learned there. His amateur swordsmanship had benefited from it, and some actual professional sword classes later, Starscream was at his current level of skill (with a sharp object).

Come to think of it, he didn't own nearly enough knives. And he hadn't brought any of them with him either. The more he thought about it, the more important it seemed to go find a place to buy knives.

"Your tri-tip sandwich," The serving girl's voice was chipper and customer friendly, making Starscream look up and shift in his seat to assess his meal, "Do you need anything else?"

"No." Starscream shook his head somewhat and glanced back up at her briefly. She hitched the smile up a bit and nodded,

"Okay. Just tell me when you're ready to pay."

It was a few minutes after she left that Starscream realized why she'd smiled so tensely. She'd hoped to get a _thank you_ out of him. If he was going to blend in and mesh with regular citizens, he'd need to be more... open. And _polite._ Keeping his professional and social lives seperate would be difficult, because regular manners with the Decepticons consisted of giving others their space when they were mad, giving others their space when they were sad, watching your comrade's back in a fight (on occasion), calling Megatron 'sir', being behaved when Megatron was in the room, and following Megatron's orders. _Please_ and _thank you_ were words that indicated great respect, severe submission, or mockery.

A note was made to at least smile and attempt a 'thank you' when he asked for the bill. He'd probably just shorten it to 'thanks'.

---(1:18 p.m., Iacon Police Department)---

Jetfire put a letter of complaint through the shredder. The shredder did its job and made confetti of the letter, the sort of confetti that would make pretty good bedding for a small pet. If Jetfire had a small pet, its bedding would consist of shredded documents from work.

Part of his job as a lieutenant was to deal with public relations between the department and the public. Namely; news interviews, public ceremony, and letters of complaint. He had to restrain himself from talking like a normal person, and type out responses in legal-speak. Letters he had to put in an envelope and mail back to the recipient were even worse. Most people had converted to e-mail, some though... stuck with paper.

_Don't these people know all the trees they're killing?_ Jetfire thought absently, putting the envelope through the shredder as well. Most letters were scanned over, the complaint identified, and then got a copy-pasted, pre-saved response with blank spaces to fill in personal/specific information. There were a few (paper) letters he'd started to recognize over the years as coming from the same person though. Complaining about every single goddamn irrelevant speck of an annoyance and wouldn't the police department _please_ do something about it? These were shredded into small-critter bedding.

Once, Jetfire tried to understand _WHY._ Why would someone be annoyed by every little disturbance? Why would they refuse to deal with it themselves? **WHY** would they write to the police department about someone's underwear being dried in the front yard?! Eventually he came to the conclusion that some people had no life, and then he decided to start shredding the letters.

Sometimes the shredder really fascinated him. He tried putting in multiple layers of paper to see just how hard-core it was. It could shred credit cards, CDs, and floppy discs. If he timed it right, he could keep the shredder going continuously by putting in paper after paper after paper.

The case reports on his desk had been reviewed and filed away earlier today. By the end of the day, he expected more monotonous case files to be on his desk to be reviewed, noted, stamped and then filed away. He'd made a call to Iacon Montessori, and talked with the principal about what time he should show up and if he should bring little stickers or something. She said it was a good idea to bring stickers or plastic hats and to print out certificates for the children. They agreed the presentation should last about an hour, enough time for questions to be asked, demonstrations to be made, a car to show off, and swag to be handed out.

Jetfire made an idle list of things he would talk about in his presentation, and then decided that Hotshot would be coming along as well. Hotshot loved kids. Jetfire was fine with kids, so long as they were someone else's and there weren't too many of them. And provided they weren't brats.

Oh right, he also had a high school newspaper interview to go to. It had been what Optimus wanted to talk with Jetfire about. Apparently the school was doing something about drunk-driving accidents, and they wanted to talk with the local police department about specifics. The whole 'something about drunk-driving accidents' had been rather vague, so Jetfire wasn't sure exactly what it entitled. There had been a hint that an organization was doing something for the school as well, and Jetfire had the feeling his participation would go farther than just a newspaper interview.

"Hey Jetfire! Optimus asked me to give this to you," Sideswipe suddenly poked his head in the doorway, holding up a small packet of papers and watching as Jetfire's shoulders sagged. The younger officer looked at the packet and read it over, "Something about Iacon High and... Every 15 Minutes?" His eyes went from scanning the packet to looking up at Jetfire, who looked confused.

"It must be that drunk-driving thing. Give it here." He reached out for the packet as Sideswipe stepped into the office, handing the papers off to the lieutenant and then standing next to the desk. Jetfire had gotten to skimming over the second page before looking up at Sideswipe, observing he was still there. He blinked patiently.

"... Um... Right. Did you need me for anything else?" bright blue eyes stared at Jetfire with a 'pick me pick me pick meee!' look in them. The kid was too enthusiastic for his own good (and sometimes, other people's good). Jetfire paused to think, then looked down at his desk and spotted the list of ideas he'd thought about presenting to the Montessori school. Technically, it was just his responsibility to _coordinate_ public relations. He didn't actually have to be there if he handed it off to someone else. Or he'd just have to sit there and watch over Sideswipe to make sure he didn't shoot himself in the foot (in front of small children) or something.

Deciding it was genius, Jetfire pulled some clean paper out of his printer and started to write down the date, time, school and principal's name. He wrote down the general schedule for the hour they were supposed to be there, and wrote down Hotshot's name as well. To anyone else, he'd just tell them directly, but he kind of felt like he had to write a note and pin it to Sideswipe's shirt to make sure it wasn't lost/forgotten, "You like kids, right? There's a presentation at the elementary school next Tuesday. I want you and Hotshot to go there. If I have time, I'll come." the paper was handed to Sideswipe, who looked intrigued and curious at the thought of an assignment from Jetfire. Then the look jumped up to 'woo hoo!'

"Sure! Kids are okay. I'll take care of it." He grinned and left the office. Jetfire grinned behind him and inwardly gave himself a high-five for quick thinking. He'd fit in juuuust fine with a bunch of 8 year olds...

Jetfire looked around at the rest of his desk to see if there was anything else he needed to do. Yesterday had been busy, but today looked slow. With nothing else to distract him, he leaned back in his chair and picked up the packet from the high school, spinning the chair around a little as he read.

It didn't take too long, and it was only about 5 pages. The Every 15 Minutes organization just wanted assistance going through standard procedure involving a drunk-driving accident. Officers were needed to rush to the fake crash scene, help the 'wounded' along with the paramedics and fire department, and arrest the 'drunk driver' while doing what they would normally do in such a situation. The simulation would carry through taking the wounded to the hospital, and the 'drunk driver' being taken down to the station to be photographed and put in a holding cell. They would even go to court, and the entire simulation would be videotaped.

The whole thing sounded pretty elaborate and... ingenious. Getting some volunteers to help out for a day should be pretty easy.

Jetfire looked up from the packet, and was shocked to see a large, stocky FBI agent sitting in the chair in front of his desk. Scavenger had a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and the usual passive/bored look on his face. It wasn't uncommon to see Scavenger and Blurr separated, just like it wasn't uncommon to see them talking about something. It _also_ wasn't uncommon for Scavenger to just walk over and take a seat in your chair to drink his cup of ever-present coffee or to use your computer for something. It wasn't that he actively wanted to be rude or off-putting (if you were 'old friends' with Optimus, you couldn't be that bad a guy), it was just as if Scavenger had reached the point where he didn't care anymore. You could walk up to him and call him a jerk or asshole, and he'd just stare, blink, take a sip of coffee and then tilt his head with a dismissive 'Right...' and then walk around you. Normally Jetfire would find the behavior a bit off-putting. On the other hand, in comparison with obsessed-with-guns Blurr, the choice between the two FBI agents was easy.

But for a big old guy, Scavenger was scarily fast and quiet, "Er... hi." Jetfire raised both eyebrows and lowered the packet he'd been reading. Scavenger just blinked at him slowly, large arms resting on the arm rests as he... processed. Who really knew what he was thinking about any way?

"What's that?" After a long pause, Scavenger gestured to the packet Jetfire was reading, lifting his coffee and taking a sip. The police lieutenant blinked and looked down at the packet, turning back to the front page and getting up from the desk. He walked around and handed the packet to Scavenger, who took it and brought it down in front of him to read.

"Some anti-drunk driving organization is doing a simulation at the high school. They wanted us to help." Jetfire leaned back against his own desk, moving his arms back to support his weight. Even though Scavenger and Blurr were stationed here for some counterfeit money ring, it always seemed like Blurr was really busy and Scavenger was just... bored. Or not around. He disappeared a lot.

"... Sounds like a good idea. You going to do it?" He used a finger from the hand holding the coffee to turn the page, looking through the packet slowly.

Jetfire adjusted his position against the desk, shifting his weight to one foot, " Yeah. I don't know if _I'll_ do it, but I'll get some volunteers." He shrugged and waited for Scavenger to finish reading the packet. As the local department, they were helping the FBI with the counterfeit problem, but sometimes the FBI (mostly just Blurr) withheld information. The incident earlier this morning surfaced, and Jetfire wondered if Scavenger would be more open about it.

"... Hmm. If I have time, I'll come and watch." Scavenger leaned forward and tossed the packet back on Jetfire's desk. The lieutenant watched as the packet slid and then settled, then he looked back at Scavenger.

"Hey. This morning I saw Blurr talking with Optimus about something. You know what it was?" Jetfire watched as another sip of coffee was taken. Scavenger let his eyes wander away as he thought over the request. Then he looked back at Jetfire for a little while and took another sip of coffee.

"Yeah. There's a new lead in the case, but we need to find someone first. Or find someone to find him. The chain can get kind of complicated." there was a vague wave with the free hand and another sip of coffee.

Jetfire tilted his head and shuffled his shoulders a bit in thought. The way Blurr had put it (for as long as he'd remained there to listen), they had nothing, "Anything I can do to help?" He watched as Scavenger's golden-white eyes went from wandering around the room to snapping back to Jetfire. Again, he contemplated something,

"... Do the names Swindle, Lockdown, or Razorwire mean anything to you?" the coffee cup with inspected and shaken slightly. Some liquid sloshed around.

"Mmm... can't say they do. You could try asking Sideways..." Jetfire let the suggestion trail away, thinking about what he was saying. Being in debt to that man was not at all... inviting. Apparently, Scavenger was of the same opinion,

"Hmm. No, I'll keep looking on my own. There's something I don't like about that guy..." the rest of the coffee was downed and the cup crushed, Scavenger leaning to the side to toss the empty cup into the trash.

While Jetfire agreed with Scavenger all the way, he was still a police officer (and therefore Jetfire felt some obligation to defend a fellow officer), "Yeah, I know. There's something off about him, but maybe it's what lets him be such a good undercover guy. I saw Blurr talking to him a while back..."

Scavenger waved a hand, "Blurr does whatever to get the job done. To him, the end justifies the means," he stood and stretched slowly, back popping in a few places before he dropped his arms. The FBI agent gave Jetfire a vague nod, "I'll keep working on my own for now. You going out for lunch?"

Jetfire took in a slow breath before letting it out, thinking over where he wanted to go, "Yeah. Did you want something?" There was that new cafe a few blocks away from his apartment. On a day he wasn't busy, he could show the new tenant around and stop by there. He'd been wondering about the food in the Triplecharger Cafe anyway.

Again, Scavenger thought it over, "... Sure. Something that isn't soup," he gave Jetfire a gruff smile before turning and walking out of the office, "I'll pay for it when you get back. Be in the break room taking a nap." AKA, snoring louder than anyone has a right to in public. Jetfire shrugged and grabbed his jacket, searching for his keys before walking back to leave a note on his desk in case anyone was looking for him.

He flicked the light off on his way out and closed the door, tossing the keys up and down as he walked to the parking lot to pick out a car.

---(1:50 p.m., Triplecharger Cafe)---

Starscream had wanted a pet when he was little. He'd rescued a stray dog, and kept it at home for a while. Then his dad had discovered the dog, the fleas, and the fact the dog wasn't house broken. His father had smacked him over the head and taken the dog away. Starscream never saw it again after that.

Since then, Starscream had regarded things that tended to draw emotional attatchment as things that could (and _would_) be taken away eventually. That would lead to heartbreak and depression, neither of which Starscream wanted any part of. The Decepticons further reinforced that feeling; targeting emotional attachments as weaknesses that could be used against you. Heck, Starscream had done it in order to lure a target. It just further cemented his conviction that he didn't need anyone to depend upon but a teammate that could take care of themselves and had motivation. And he definitely didn't need anyone or any_thing_ to lavish attention and love upon as an outlet for suppressed emotions.

Unfortunately, the stray dog sitting next to him was trying its damndest to convince him otherwise. It had short fur, and looked... like a stray. The fur wasn't scruffy, and it had a kind of a blue-ish, purple-ish, silver-ish tone to it. There was a name for the specific breed, and Starscream was fairly sure it was a bird dog or hunting dog of some kind.

He wasn't even entirely sure where the dog had come from really, just that it had appeared from behind and around the corner (too low for the reflective napkin box) and whined softly at his feet. Its short tail wagged when it saw he was looking down at it, and it whined again when Starscream looked away. The dog tried pawing at him, and Starscream shot it a venomous glare that he wasn't entirely sure had worked. The pawing had stopped, but the dog's stubby tail had started wagging again, and hopeful crystal blue eyes looked up at him... hopefully.

Starscream went back to eating his sandwich, but as soon as he raised it and opened his mouth, he heard the dog lick its chops and could see it shift slightly in hope. The sound made him pause and lower the sandwich in annoyance and some... other emotion. He sighed and looked down at the dog with less malice, "Go." He pointed away.

The movement just excited the dog, and it followed Starscream's hand attentively. After it saw nothing of interest, it looked back to Starscream and squirmed with renewed excitement. The Decepticon agent sighed extensively and went back to trying to eat his sandwich. He took one bite before the dog started whining again.

As he chewed and swallowed, Starscream looked over his options;

1) Kick the dog and tell it to go.

2) Give it some of the meat in his sandwich.

3) Throw the meat across the street.

4) Try and ignore the dog and wait for it to go away.

Before simply choosing an option, Starscream paused to review the new identity he was trying to create. Making a negative impression on the local population was probably a bad thing. At the same time, being really friendly would encourage people to talk to him, and in turn try to come over to his apartment. That was something he did not want. Or did he? Who would expect a friendly young college graduate to know how to eviscerate you with a spoon?

Okay, so being friendly (_EEGHHH_) would do well for his cover. But could he, Starscream, handle having to put up with people? He still had to get a job later. And would the friendly-ness pose a threat to his obligations?

It was all a very delicate balance... and you couldn't have it all one way (unfortunately).

Starscream took out a slice of the meat and dropped it next to the table. The dog got up immediately and was on the small piece of meat as if its life depended upon it (judging by the visible ribs on the dog, it probably was). As soon as the piece of meat was eaten, the dog looked up with newfound hope and earnest begging eyes.

Okay, he'd just have to live two different lives. The business side (the assassin/bureau runner/Decepticon) and the cover identity side (a freshly graduated college student who wanted to be a chemist). The business side would come first of course. He'd just have to learn to deal with the college graduate part of his life. It couldn't be too hard; just be friendly(ish) on the surface to avoid suspicion.

Starscream pulled out some more meat from the sandwich and dropped it, taking a bite of the rest of his sandwich while the dog was distracted by the meat. He noticed the tall, red-headed police officer through the napkin holder before he'd even said anything.

---(1:58 p.m., Triplecharger Cafe)---

Jetfire had seen the dog as soon as he'd parked his car on the street. Initially, concern had sprung up when he noticed how skinny the thing was. He'd looked to who he could only guess was the owner, and contemplated saying anything. When the man had taken some meat and dropped it for the dog, that sealed the deal. Upon closer inspection, the dog looked more like a stray (no collar), and the man looked remarkably like the new tenant in his building.

He had time, he could sit and chat for a bit. With a grin, he stopped slightly behind Starscream (who had gone suddenly still) and put his hands on his hips, "Didn't know you had a dog."

There was a pause before Starscream turned around, looking up at the officer with an expression that didn't quite convey 'oh, it's good to see you too', "... I don't."

Jetfire took the chilly response as 'hi, sit down', and took a seat in the chair just opposite of Starscream. He looked down at the dog, who looked back with gratuitous amounts of enthusiasm. Then it seemed to notice Jetfire had no food, and looked back at Starscream instead, "Maybe you should adopt. It'll make the transition easier." Jetfire reached down and patted the dog on the head, who ignored him and remained focused on Starscream (and his sandwich).

"... Transition?" Another piece of meat was dropped, and the dog went for it immediately.

"Yeah. Living on your own, you know?"

"Hmh. Maybe." Starscream's eyes wandered across the street for a while before returning to the sandwich and proceeding to finish it. The dog whined and reached up to paw at his leg. The younger man seemed to pause in thought before lowering the last corner of his sandwich. It was eaten with gusto, bread and all.

Jetfire couldn't help but smirk a little. For all his angsty youth/cold greetings, Starscream wasn't a bad person. After all, he was giving up his lunch for a dog.

"So, you out looking for a job yet?" Jetfire rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. Starscream avoided eye contact, watching the dog lick its chops and look back up at him for more.

"... Yeah. Still not moved in yet," Starscream spared Jetfire a glance before looking back at the dog, "Go. I don't have any more food." he moved the dog's head away to the side to try and encourage it to go.

The dog whined and stayed, shuffling and looking as adorable and hungry as possible.

"Ahh... moving in can take a long time. If you've still got some time, maybe you'd like to come down to the station. I can show you around." And get out of a day's work. SCORE. _Sorry OP, can't do paperwork today. Why? I'm showing around my new neighbor and setting an example for the community._

Jetfire almost missed the look of abstract horror on Starscream's face. For all he knew, he'd just invited him to participate in a sacrificial ceremony as the guest of honor. The large orange eyes blinked once before recovering and looking away with a dismissive 'Ahm'.

It was like the same look he'd gotten when he'd knocked on his door the other night. What gives?

"Awwwh! The puppy is soooo cute!" The cry had been distant, but audible.

Jetfire turned in his seat to see the source of the exclamation. Three teenage girls with ice cream across the two-way street. Skirts shorter than they should be, and one of their tops depended on elastic and breasts alone to stay up. They blushed and waved at Jetfire and Starscream. Purely for public relation's sake (as was in his job description), Jetfire grinned and waved back. The girls giggled and turned to gossip.

His ego sufficiently boosted, Jetfire turned back with a large grin. It was lessened when he came face to face with a 'you're an idiot' look from Starscream. But not to be defeated, Jetfire hitched the grin back up, reaching out and giving him a friendly slap on the arm, "What's your problem?"

Starscream's look narrowed into a glare after he was patted, and he rolled his eyes with a short huff, as if he'd already given up on explaining it. Next to him, the dog yipped and took off. Jetfire turned to watch it for a few seconds, then looked back at Starscream. What kind of a 'normal young man' was he anyway?

"Hey, lighten up. Live a little. Sheesh," Jetfire paused, thinking over Starscream's odd behavior. Well, someone would have to tell him to take the stick out of his ass if he wanted to function around others. Or just if something was bothering him, and if he was like this all the time (in which case, the stick would have to be removed with a trip to the theme park and some alcohol at the end of the day). Making up his mind and putting himself in the right, Jetfire opened his mouth to start telling Starscream how to live his life.

Starscream on the other hand, was looking at something past Jetfire's right ear, and his pupils contracted sharply with thought, "Stop the dog." It was more of a command that had already been passed, and Starscream was standing up to carry it out. He ripped one of his gloves off, sticking two fingers into his mouth and whistling a loud, attention calling whistle.

Jetfire turned and looked over his shoulder, wondering what had interrupted his purely helpful advice. The dog had turned its head back due to the whistle, blundering right into traffic without showing any signs of slowing down. In fact, it had already been going full tilt through the first lane when Starscream had whistled.

An oncoming car honked and the dog skittered to a halt in the middle of the second road, stubby tail down as it stood like a deer in the headlights. The driver swerved in panic, first heading toward the sidewalk before seeing the teenage girls and swerving the other direction instead. All three girls screamed right before the car crashed directly into an oncoming car from the other lane. Behind the other car, the driver veered off to the side and crashed into a lamp post. Car alarms blared and breaks screeched.

Jetfire was up as soon as he saw the first crash, running and being distantly aware of Starscream following behind him. He grabbed at his radio, watching the stray dog flee the scene unharmed, "Dispatch, this is Jetfire. I need three 10-78's 10-18 at the TripleCharger Cafe, there is a three-car 11-83 in progress."

He let go of the radio and stopped at the car crashed into the lap post, crouching to look down in the window, "Sir, are you all right? Can you hear me?" The old man in the car didn't respond. It looked like the steering wheel had crushed his legs, "Sir?" Jetfire stood and looked around at the gathering crowd of people, hearing horn honks distantly. He didn't realize Starscream was next to him until he spoke up,

"He's bleeding out. Femoral artery," the brunette started unbuckling his belt and walking around the car to the driver's side, trying the door. It was locked. He looked up at Jetfire, "Help me open the door."

"We can't move him, he's probably suffered spinal injury." But Jetfire was walking around the car anyway, pulling out his gun and drawing back before smacking the glass on the passenger door.

"And cutting the femoral artery is like cutting out the bottom of a cup."

He heard the sirens before he heard the replies over the radio,

"Hotshot and Sideswipe 10-97."

"Arcee and Ironhide 10-97."

Jetfire pushed and smashed his way through the glass, reaching in and unlocking the door. Starscream pushed him aside and opened the door, straightening out the belt and wrapping it around the old man's left thigh before pulling hard and trying to fasten the makeshift tourniquet. The officer turned his attention to the other crash, jogging to the closest car and leaning down to look in through the passenger window, "Miss, can you hear me?"

The college girl groaned, and her shoulders shook as she tried to sit up and push at the air bag.

"Okay, don't move. Help is on the way. You've suffered spinal injury, so just sit tight," He turned his attention to the other car, looking in through the driver's window and knocking on the glass, "Sir? Sir can you hear me?"

"Oh my god! There's a child!" A woman on the other side of the car gasped, trying the door handle and finding it locked.

"Ma'am, does it look like he's moving?" Jetfire looked over the car's top briefly, looking into the card again but having his view obscured by the airbag.

"No! No! It doesn't look like he was wearing a seatbelt! He's upside down!" She tried the handle again.

"Ma'am, please step back. We can't move them yet. Sir, can you hear me?" He knocked on the glass again, watching for movement and seeing none.

"Sir, please step away from the car."

"The ambulance will be here soon."

"Everyone step back and don't touch anything!"

"Hey!"

Jetfire turned to see his fellow officers jogging around the cars, organizing a perimeter and checking on the accident victims. Ironhide stopped to yell at Starscream, who (still in a crouched position), yelled back at him. With the situation explained, Ironhide bent down to assist and tie off the belt forcefully. Then Starscream was directed to leave and give them space. The brunette did so without question.

---(TBC)---

POLICE DECODER:

10-18 : Get here/it done ASAP

10-78 : Send ambulance

10-97 : Arrived at scene

10-80 : Traffic accident - major injury

11-83 : Traffic accident - no details

Every 15 Minutes really is an actual organization. And by the way, they do a freaking amazing (depressing) job.


	5. Day 2: Evening

It's official. I've graduated from highschool. Next up; COLLEGE.

What'd you think of Starscream and Jetfire in the new Transformers movie?

---(Chapter 5)---

---(2:47 pm, Aperture Apartments, Apt. No. 27)---

Water diluted the blood, making it look more like a bit of a food-dye accident as it swirled down the bathroom sink. His jacket also had blood on it, along with his pants. His plain black shirt had been spared though. But that didn't excuse the visible blood on him as he half walked, half fled back to his apartment. As if he could get anymore high profile than that. He could have sworn he heard some gasp or scream from a passerby on the way back to the apartment.

See, if this had happened to Cyclonus, he would have walked into a drug store and asked some poor sod for some tampons. Or something just as disturbing and inappropriate. Which was one of the reasons he had never risen to any greater responsibility other than 'There're some guys in there. Let's go kill them.'

Starscream turned off the tap, having deemed his hands blood free, and turned to dry them off. Except there were no towels; Because this was a new apartment.

His knees buckled slightly as he looked up and quietly cursed whatever god was listening. He then got by with waving his hands around and wiping them off on his pants. Then he remembered that blood stains were hard to get out, and went to get the spots and smears off his jacket. Or at least the white parts. It was his favorite jacket!

A large percent of the smeared blood had been hastily removed with only wet fingers before the sound of the door opening made Starscream freeze. Had he left the door unlocked? He HAD been in a hurry…

No, he remembered, he had made sure to lock it. But who could have a key to his apartment? _Freakin' hell_, he thought, _I don't even know anyone yet_! Did he know anyone who could pick a lock?

Unfortunately, yes, he did.

"HELLOOOooo? Hot damn, one day and there's already blood on your door handle!" It was Cyclonus.

"Uhh… Starscream? Please don't tell me you're already compromised." And Demolisher.

Starscream wiped his hands off on his pants again, checking his jacket carefully. Then he checked his pants, which were utterly spotted and smeared with blood. Goddamn…

"How did you get in my apartment?" Starscream decided to give up on the dark gray pants and just walk out of the bathroom as he was. It wasn't that bad. He'd gotten all of the visible smears of blood, and nothing really showed up against his black shirt. As he stepped out, he watched as Cyclonus off-handedly wiped the blood off his hands and on to his pants. If asked what the dark smear was, he'd probably say it was blood. Demolisher hadn't touched the door knob, but he was gingerly holding keys that he probably felt might be some evidence in a crime. He knew Starscream's record, oh yes.

"I copied your key earlier today," Demolisher's expression dared Starscream to complain about it. While it was annoying… Starscream said nothing. It would be a mistake to place all of his trust in a lock and key anyway. There were _other _defenses worth investing in, "Mind explaining what's up with the blood?"

"Oooh! Was it that _cop_?" Cyclonus giggled, wandering over to the couch and flopping down on it gracelessly. There were a few plastic bags in the kitchen area. Hopefully, they contained the requested kitchen implements and power tools.

"No. It's… explainable," he murmured, then looked up at Demolisher sharply and glancing at Cyclonus as well, "I didn't kill anyone." He snapped, already knowing what they were thinking. He could act professionally!

"Psh, that's a lie." Cyclonus laughed, rolling over on the couch and relaxing onto it as if he lived there.

"I was at the accident up the street. I got involved and saved some guys life. … I think. The point is, I didn't kill anyone today on purpose." Who knows. The man had looked very old, he could have still died.

The looks the other two were giving him spoke louder than words. They didn't fully believe him. And then they did, and they were going to poke fun at him for playing his good citizen role.

"Not gonna start calling the coppers for things, are ya?" Cyclonus snickered.

"And next you'll be having lunch with police officers…" Demolisher grinned his lopsided grin.

Starscream flushed a little, not about to mention that had already (sort of) happened. It wasn't like he'd invited him over!

"I AM armed." He growled, watching as Cyclonus shrugged a bit and proceeded to ignore him. Such a thing always got Starscream angry, and it visibly showed. Cyclonus giggled, waiting to see if anything would happen.

No one would argue with the fact Starscream had anger issues. And the issues seemed to fluctuate as well, like a certain bi-polar disorder. Some days he could take a lot of abuse, and other days he'd fling a vase across the room at the mention of a certain subject. There had been one event involving a rather vindictive representative of another… business. The man had had trouble keeping his mouth shut, and respecting others' personal space. Demolisher barely got Starscream off the man in time. Cyclonus was just cackling madly at seeing Starscream leap at the man over a coffee table with nothing but an old mug (minus the tea).

Anyway, since then Starscream had been sequestered mostly to combat-required tasks. Which threw him in the bin with Cyclonus and Demolisher a lot. Sometimes Wheeljack or Thrust. Tidal Wave tended not to need anything other than a direction to go.

"This isn't going to cause Megatron any trouble, right?" Demolisher asked, starting to unpack the power tools. They were for Starscream. He was the one who was going to do the work.

---(4:21 pm, Iacon PD)---

Uuuuuugh the paper work. It was so much… _trouble_. And… and work! The most boring work possible.

Jetfire spun around in his chair slowly, one half-filled out form over his face and eyes closed. He wanted it to all go away… But he needed to file a report. And get statements… statements! Half the people there babbled about what they had been doing fifteen minutes _before_ the accident! The dog wasn't found either. The little boy in the car had died, and the old man was still in critical care thanks to Starscream. Couldn't he just write that down? But noooo… he needed to follow _procedure_. Bloody procedure!!

He exhaled and blew the paper off of his face, opening his eyes lazily to look at the ceiling as he spun slowly. Everyone else had to file reports too. People would need therapy, physical and mental. And things needed to be cleaned up and towed away. And then more paperwork. Lame. Lame!!

"Keeping busy?" A low voice asked from near the doorway. Jetfire turned in his chair some more to look at the doorway, staring at Blurr. He still had his orange firing-range goggles on, and no jacket, which left his two service pistols and one personal pistol visible to all. The guy's life was like clockwork; Exercise, FBI work, and the gun range.

Jetfire's life was the exact opposite. It was more like… a bouncy ball…

"Ehh… oh, yeah. Really busy with reports and… reports…" Jetfire stooped a bit to pick up the paper and put it back on his desk, turning in his chair to fully face Blurr. The guy wasn't exactly a socialite, so the visit would have to do with business. Or (God forbid) vengeance, "What's up?"

"I am here upon Optimus's request, and his request only." Blurr's arms were crossed as he stood in the middle of the doorway, demanding attention so he could say this only once and then leave. He waited patiently for a response, as if he wanted to make sure all of Jetfire's brain cells were functioning. _Which they were…_

"Optimus?" then it must be important, "What can I help ya with?"

Blurr seemed to be contemplating something, or he was just looking at Jetfire with disdain, "Scavenger is looking for certain… people. He has gotten a tip that three people in this city may lead us to the counterfeit ring. We're going to need your… _help_ and cooperation," his eyes narrowed as he said 'help', as if daring Jetfire to make fun of him for it, "Soon. We just need locations."

Jetfire frowned a little, "Soo… like, a raid?"

"Yes, _like a raid_." Blurr replied in a distinct tone of someone that had been waiting for the other to catch up. It bothered Jetfire slightly, but he said nothing.

"Should be no problem. Just a heads up until you guys get the info, right?" Jetfire picked up a pen and waved it around a little before tapping on the desk with it, prepared to continue writing.

"Yes. Just so you know." He lifted himself off the doorway, turning around and walking away shortly thereafter. Jetfire simply watched him leave. Jeeze, that guy was such a jerk…

What was he doing again? Oh right.

PAPERWORK.

---(5:47, Aperture Apartments no. 27)---

Finally, he was rid of them. Cyclonus and Demolisher had left a while ago, leaving Starscream with peace and quiet, plus a car. Apparently his fridge would arrive tomorrow with the assistance of Tidal Wave (before the behemoth was reassigned to do something for Shockwave). But until then, Starscream would stock his apartment with the usual amenities. In fact, he'd just got back from shopping.

Towels now graced his bathroom, along with various other grooming items (toothbrush, comb, etc.). New sheets were gotten for his bed, and he'd called to make sure his laptop would be delivered. All other distractions aside, things seemed to be going smoothly. He had the address of their contact in this city, and he knew who to look for. Hopefully after the fridge was delivered, he could pay that man a visit. From what Megatron had told him, Swindle got to know everyone one way or another. From there, he could work his way up.

---(TBC)---

Not dead yet! Just distracted.


	6. Day 3: Friday

Starscream's apt. No. : 27

Jetfire's apt. No. : 23

Hmm.

If Starscream was to get a cover job, what would it be? Narns and Boble? (I'll let you figure out how original THAT store will be)

---(7:34 am, Aperture Apartment No. 23)---

Jetfire's apartment was practically next to the top of the stairs. It was a highly strategic apartment placement to ambush and listen to anyone coming up the stairs or elevator. If you listened carefully against the wall (or if it was really quiet), you could hear if someone was being careless and loud in the stairwell. You could also hear the hum of the elevator, and plan your attack accordingly.

However, such a strategic position had never occurred to the police officer, and he felt it was more of an annoyance than anything. There were always weirdoes with really heavy things that decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator, or the sound of the elevator stopping at his floor and opening its doors. His bed was pretty much right at the wall to listen to all of it.

At the moment, he was awakening to the doors opening on the elevator. And then he heard an ungainly shriek from outside and through his apartment door. Then a very heavy 'bam' noise. Jetfire prided himself on quick reactions; to be thrown into a situation and have no clue what was going on but being able to react to it anyway. And yes, he did react to the scream and heavy bang with his usual enthusiasm.

He was half-blinded with sleep, and half-naked (wearing only white pajama bottoms). His hair looked like a bird had just made a nest in it. The service gun on his belt (slung over a chair in his bedroom) was yanked out of its holster as Jetfire stumbled with conviction to his doorway, smacking his shoulder into a door jam and spinning a bit. At the front door there was a bit of a hold-up as things were unlocked, and he was absently conscious of voices in the hallway.

"Are you trying to kill me?!"

"… Refrigerator."

"No shit! You're taller than it and can lift the damn thing by yourself! Why didn't you bring a dolly?"

Jetfire swung the door open and came out from behind his doorway, gun raised and eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on the large white shape, purple and black shape, and red and white shape. The red and white shape turned into his new neighbor (Starscream lived at the other end of the hallway) sitting on his butt, looking up at a large white refrigerator wrapped in plastic and bubble wrap. Presumably, the purple and black shape had attacked him with a refrigerator (it was too early to expect coherent thought), so Jetfire turned his gun to the man that had just stepped out of the elevator behind the refrigerator. Who was mouth-level with the top of the fridge.

There was a long pause as both people in the hallway turned to stare at Jetfire and his gun, "Okay, nobody move. What's going on?" he slurred, clearing vision allowed him to see the purple and black shape. It was a thug if he'd ever seen one. The man was enormous, built like a brick-wall, and was wearing a badly-cared for suit that was probably supposed to make him look professional. It just made him more intimidating. The guy even had a crew-cut and beard. Did he mention the guy was enormous?

"… Good morning," Starscream started to get up very slowly, hands up, "Jetfire, this is Tidal Wave. Tidal Wave, this is Jetfire. The police officer I told you about living down the hall," the new tenant was talking like Tidal Wave needed longer than usual to process information. And judging by the not-too-calculating look on his face, Jetfire was feeling the same way about him, "Jetfire, you can relax because he's helping me move in." Starscream tried to glance around the fridge at Tidal Wave, looking like he wanted to say something. Like telling the THUG not to attack Jetfire? He had 'ominous bad guy lackey with more brawn than brain' written all over him!

Against his instincts, Jetfire began to lower the gun. Then he removed a hand from his gun and tried to smooth his hair back out of frustration. Too damn early in the morning… "Right… sorry… thought something else… never mind." The gun was moved to hide behind his pants-leg.

'Tidal Wave' seemed to be thinking still, and his broad, harsh face twisted as he reached some kind of conclusion, "… Ally?"

Oh good lord. The man had to have all three brain cells working at maximum.

Starscream's response came out with a rather pained expression, "… yeeessss… Ally. Er… friend."

Later, Jetfire would wonder on the phrasing of 'ally' by the two of them. It sounded too… formal. No, beyond formal. Who the hell talked like that?

---(7:39 am, Aperture Apartments, 7th floor hallway)---

Things were rather tense. Tidal Wave only strictly listened to _Megatron's_ every breathed order without question. Everyone else, he tried to calculate. And that's if something didn't trigger the reaction to smash their head like it was made of porcelain (and his fist made of iron). Fortunately, Jetfire was out of Tidal Wave's reach (by about three of his long strides), and safe now that the gun had been lowered. Starscream had seen the whole 'two taps to the heart and one to the head' thing on Tidal Wave. Sure he'd required medical attention afterward, but no amount of medical attention in the world could have helped that cop. That would just point a big red arrow at the Decepticons, and he didn't need that in this city.

Jetfire was shifting a bit awkwardly, clearly still waking up, "Erm… right… need any help?" he offered, shifting back into his apartment to put the gun away. Starscream noted the click of the safety going on.

"No, we'll be fine. You should just… go get ready for work…" Starscream tried to brush his clothes off casually, watching as the cop ran a hand through his hair again.

"Right." he yawned and wandered back into the apartment, one hand half-waving goodbye in an effort to salvage the situation. Starscream just waited for the door to close (he hadn't expected it to go that well), then he exhaled a carefully measured breath and knocked on the fridge,

"Do not do anything to him. It'll blow my cover." He hissed, stepping forward and around the fridge to see Tidal Wave. The big brute was still staring at the space that had once contained Jetfire, and it took him a moment to look down at Starscream.

"… Hmmm…"

Starscream rolled his eyes and slapped a hand on the fridge, "Let's just do this, and you can go." And hopefully stay out of trouble.

The behemoth rumbled out 'fridge' and then picked up the huge appliance, pausing only for a second to brace himself. Starscream kept a few paces ahead of him, going down the hall at a fast, long-strided walk to get back to his apartment.

Getting the actual refrigerator through the door had been interesting, and Starscream spent quite a while trying to figure out what connected to what behind it. Tidal Wave did not help at all, and Starscream was wondering if he'd cracked the plaster when he ran into the kitchen doorway. Physically pushing Tidal Wave out of the doorway was also impossible (more so than Jetfire), and Starscream had to explain why he could go back to Megatron now more than once. Tidal Wave turned and walked out of the apartment halfway thought the third explanation, and Starscream decided he could probably find his own way back.

Perhaps he wasn't stupid. Just a really slow thinker. After all, you don't walk out of lethal situations simply because you're strong all the time.

Either way, Tidal Wave wasn't his problem anymore. Meeting with some guy named 'Swindle' was, and Starscream was debating the politics of arriving armed. He eventually decided that it would only be polite to take the other seriously and arrive armed, and was again reminded of his lack of knives.

---(8:02 am, Aperture Apartments )---

"Bah… at least I'll be to work on time…" Jetfire walked down the stairs outside of his apartment reluctantly, pausing to drink from a foam cup of his home-made coffee. He hadn't seen a sign of Starscream and his… friend (?) since the rather awkward encounter earlier this morning. Was that guy a relative…? He looked nothing like Starscream. He wasn't even the same ethnicity! They couldn't be related.

So… where exactly do you find a 'friend' like that? Heck, he'd never even seen anyone _built_ like that before. It was like some kind of gross exaggeration of thug-dom.

Jetfire mulled the thought over in his head, weighing possibilities as he tossed his keys up and down and walked to his civilian car to drive to work. Well, then again Starscream appeared to have some really _weird _relatives, ones that quite possibly didn't always obey the law. Ones who had strange friends? Because a college kid would have to have his things together in life to have gotten this far, right? He seemed like a good enough guy, pardoning a few oddities. Like his strange aversion to Jetfire.

The officer clicked his car remote, and his red sports car beeped and flicked its lights, signaling it was now unlocked. He could always do a background check, but that seemed rather excessive and intrusive. But he didn't have to _tell_ Starscream… and he'd let the guilt stare him in the face whenever he looked at him. Fantastic.

But it wasn't like he was getting involved with Starscream in any way that would merit a background check. And anyway, that car accident thing yesterday had proved he had good instincts. He'd saved that old man's life after all! Plus he'd tried to stop that dog-

"-_Bark!-_"

Jetfire stopped halfway around his car, still holding onto his cup of steaming coffee as he turned to look at the source of the bark. In some strange twist of fate, it was the dog from the other day. It still looked hopeful, hungry and sweet. The little stub of a tail wagged once the dog realized it had Jetfire's attention.

Was it looking for Starscream? Because there was nooooo way he was going up to the guy's apartment after drawing down on him and his fridge. Plus, there was monstrous fridge-mover-probable-thug-person. He'd make it up to Starscream later. For now, there was a trouble-causing dog right in front of him. And he COULD take him to the pound, and deal with the paperwork… or just try and get someone to take him home at _work._ Provided he could get it into the car and it didn't ruin the interior. Hotshot liked dogs didn't he? And Sideswipe was practically dying for a friend just as energetic as himself.

The cup of coffee was set down very carefully on the shiny hood of his car, and he pocketed his keys and approached the dog slowly, "O-kay, hey there boy… yeah, I remember you, too…" he watched as the dog wagged its tail more and sniffed at the air, gaping its maw to pant. Jetfire continued to approach with his hands out and ready to grab the dog, "Yeaaah… I think I've got a crazy hyper friend of mine that would be juuuust perfect for you…" the dog turned his head curiously, walking forward a little bit.

---(11:37, Hunting Goods Store)---

Blurr had been desperate to get out of the police station. Jetfire had walked into the police station at 8:37 am (LATE) with a dog that he set down and promptly let run loose in the department. The charismatic Lieutenant had gotten the thing adopted in fifteen minutes by one of the cadets, and had just left the dog to run around and disrupt the workplace. Optimus didn't do anything about it either. What kind of command is that!?

He'd been talking with Scavenger in one of the meeting rooms when the dog ran by, followed by a local police officer yelling about his pastry. That had been it. Blurr had wrapped the discussion with Scavenger up quickly, and left the police department. There was something he'd been meaning to do anyway, and it would take his mind off the stressful non-progression he'd been making for the past half a month.

It involved the local hunting goods store. Specifically speaking, a custom long-range scope for his sniper rifle.

From what he could tell, the store was run by a father and son. The father was gruff and stern, and the kid was shy and jumpy. Except around guns. Around guns, the kid sounded like the most knowledgeable and confident person in the world. And since that was the only reason for Blurr to come here, he was fine with that.

"Hey. Did the scope come in yet?" Blurr walked into the store and took a cursory look around the interior, noting a man with black hair and a red and white jacket talking to the father. There were a few knives out on the glass display-case-counter.

"Oh. Yeah. It came in four days ago," The kid glanced at his father before looking back at Blurr, "It'll just take a minute." He walked to a door leading into the back of the store, disappearing through it.

Blurr turned around and leaned his back against the display case/counter of guns behind him, looking slowly around the shop in the mean time. When he'd first come to this city, he'd immediately given the general area he would be working a good look. And then he'd seen the hunting goods store and been intrigued. Thus, he'd walked inside and become briefly acquainted with the owner and his son, and had started to talk about rifle upgrades. The boy was completely blind in one eye (an accident as a child, one that was usually hidden behind a curtain of black chin-length hair), and had stayed utterly silent while Blurr talked with his father. But as soon as Blurr had brought up guns, he'd spoken up about a new scope he'd seen in the recent gun magazines that Blurr had been too busy to read. So Blurr asked for it to be ordered, and then had been too busy to come by for it.

His attention drifted to the other patron in the store, flicking back briefly to the door as someone else walked in. Then he looked at the customer talking with the store's owner. The guy seemed like a young man, and he was buying a few hunting knives and throwing knives. He paid in cash, and collected the knives before walking to the door. Orange eyes caught Blurr's before looking away and exiting the store. Blurr wasn't really one to judge; he was buying a scope for his rifle that could see three miles away.

"Here it is." The teen came back with an unopened box and pen and paper. Blurr signed the receipt and paid for the scope before deciding an early lunch was in order. He would be relaxed before going back to that police station…

---(TBC)---

Yeah. From Blurr's point of view for once. The guy is wound pretty tight.


	7. Day 4: Saturday Morning

(Surprise! It's a chapter!

Animated!Swindle appears because he is amazing and I love him.)

---(8:50 am, Air Hangar a mile from Iacon)---

Starscream had gotten up early, and he wasn't terribly happy about it. It wasn't that he was against getting up early or anything, it was just that he would rather sleep in. He'd conquered the damn IKEA bed, and now he felt he deserved the right to sleep in it to teach it a lesson. But no, the meeting had been set at the peak of morning, so instead of being in bed, he was in an air hangar a mile from Iacon in the middle of an over grown field.

Luckily, Swindle was quite punctual. The robust Hummer he and some 'safety insurance' arrived in was hard to miss. Once his sharp, business-suit clad form stepped (skipped? hopped?) out of the Hummer, his personality also filled the room, all smiles and dark sunglasses, "Ah, you must be Starscream! If my contacts tell me anything, you like swords, right?" almost on cue, one of the miscellaneous men in dark suits opened a long suitcase, showing off a Japanese style sword. Starscream eyed it and made a note for later.

"… I do. But maybe we can hold off until later?" Starscream walked closer, watching as the bodyguards tensed up a little. Swindle remained completely relaxed though, sighing and waving the man and the sword away.

Starscream had actually arrived a full half-hour early in order to scout the meeting place out. It was close to an old, seldom-used private air strip, with a few bored tower controllers who were probably on Swindle's payroll. Why else would he use this place? But aside from that, there were a lot of flat wide areas of strip, grassy areas (also flat and wide), and some old machinery and plane maintenance vehicles. The very warehouse he was standing in had some replacement parts and various boxes most likely filled with cargo of some sort. Perhaps Swindle's cargo.

The point of his coming early (to scout for escape routes, men in hiding, explosives, etc.) had been resolved, and Starscream thusly resumed a standing position in the middle of the air hangar. Where Swindle arrived and met him.

"All business, your type of guys," Swindle sighed politely, taking off his sunglasses and cleaning them before folding and putting them into his inner-coat pocket. He then set his hand on his hip and extended the other one out in a handshake, "I'm Swindle. But you already know that, hm? Cyclonus has told me lots of… professionally interesting things about you." The arms dealer offered a charming smile as Starscream accepted the handshake diplomatically. Starscream got the impression that most of Cyclonus's pay cut went to Swindle, whether he intended to buy something in the beginning or not.

"I'm sure. You work here a lot?" Starscream smiled back, tilting his head to the side a little and taking a cursory glance around the large, spacious hangar. Swindle kept his eyes on Starscream,

"Aah… well, not all the time, but one of my big buyers lives here. So I like to hang around." He shrugged.

"And who might that be?"

"Now that would be telling." Swindle's smile probably would have looked more sincere if he had his sunglasses on.

As it was, it looked more like a fox smiling down at a chicken.

"Maybe later then. I was looking for connections in this city. You wouldn't happen to know anyone I could talk to, right?" Starscream's lips stretched into a tight smile. Swindle grinned,

"Of course I do. And I can get you a meeting. Free of charge. Consider it a welcoming favor. I'll just need your number." A slick black phone slid out of Swindle's pocket, and he flipped it open in his hand, ready.

Damn this guy moved fast. But lots of people had built their fortunes by promising everything for nothing. The only trick was seeing what they were trying to get out of you, "Nothing? You get my phone number, don't you?" He remained polite in his accusation, eyes narrowing only slightly. Swindle's salesman grin withdrew to a face-saving pout,

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything with it. Except maybe tell you about any great deals I have…" the pout turned into a sheepish grin. As if you couldn't expect any less of the man.

Starscream pressed his lips together slightly, "… Right. I'll give you my card if you give me yours. And his information."

"Now just hang _on_ a second; I'm doing you a favor here!" The phone snapped shut with indignation.

"You're trying to make a deal right under my nose. You _could _have just asked for my number. But I can agree to a trade, yours for mine. Plus the favor," He watched Swindle's eyebrows crease slightly. It was Starscream's turn to break out into a friendly smile, "I do plan on buying that sword."

A good amount of suspicion and dislike was passing between the two of them but the promised purchase settled in and diffused things. Soon enough, they were both smiling, and letting out quiet, fake laughs to further dissolve the tension.

"Well hey, it'll be full price for you." So Swindle was just a little ticked off. Starscream tilted his head and smiled more,

"I wouldn't have it any other way. How soon can I meet your friend?"

Swindle grinned, obviously feeling satisfied, "Soon. He runs a big club he named after himself called 'The Wire'. I'll give you a call after I talk to him." The slick black phone made another appearance, opening while Swindle waited patiently.

The phone number argument had been a formality, Starscream's equivalent of sizing someone else up and letting them know where he stood. Both of them knew that phones could be ditched and replaced within half an hour. Starscream didn't even bother calling the number immediately to check if it was legitimate or not.

---(11:27, Aperture Apartments)---

Okay, Jetfire was normally all for socializing with everyone and anyone, but yesterday he'd avoided Starscream like the plague. With good reason. You don't just menace someone with a gun and then expect everything to go back to normal! What kind of crappy relationship is that? More like a relationSHIT…

He had to make it up to him.

But what could he do? Science and whatever was boring as hell, and Starscream hadn't mentioned any kind of hobby. So what could he do that any young man would enjoy? Preferably an activity that someone couldn't normally do alone…

The gun range was out of the question, since he didn't want to relate to the incident with the fridge in the hallway, and there wasn't any kind of event happening in town today or this weekend.

Bowling? Jetfire didn't mind it that much… but his sulky neighbor didn't exactly look like the bowling type.

Dragging him out to go clubbing would be weird since he didn't really know the guy that well…

A bar maybe?

Yeah, a bar! Who doesn't like a drinking buddy on a Saturday night? Plus any sort of booze would probably chill him out if he was mad. And they could talk and get to know each other better and Jetfire could apologize and Starscream could accept the apology and they would be cool. All of that sounded like a good plan.

With a fantastic situation set up and practically already played out in his head, he finished his breakfast and grabbed a shirt, fumbling some shoes on before leaving his apartment and knocking on Starscream's door. Hey, since when did his door have a peephole?

Silence reigned.

Jetfire knocked again and checked his watch. 11:30 am. Was he still asleep? Jetfire could sleep to three in the afternoon, but that was generally reserved for weekends. Starscream didn't already have a job, right?

There was an all too familiar 'ding' noise, and the rasp of elevator doors opening behind Jetfire. He looked down the hall toward his room to see who stepped out since nothing terribly exciting was happening where he currently was. As it turned out, Starscream stepped out of the elevator, and froze when he saw Jetfire in front of his apartment. An awkward silence crept between them for a moment before Jetfire took a proverbial sledgehammer to it.

"Hey! Starscream! I was looking for you, where'd you go?" Jetfire walked toward him, seeing the brunette tense slightly and bristle with irritation.

"… Out." Came the noncommittal 'NoneOfYourBusiness' answer. Not that it would deter Jetfire or his steamship of charisma.

"Did you get a job already? Man you must work fast-"

"What do you want?" Starscream cut him off, shifting a paper bag under his arm that Jetfire had just noticed. No job (what job ends at 11 in the morning anyway?), shopping. Starscream began to walk toward him, moving to skirt around Jetfire while the officer tried to talk to him,

"Well, I wanted to know if you were free for a drink or two later today." Jetfire followed Starscream all the way back to his door, standing next to him as keys were fumbled for. Starscream multi-tasked searching for keys and giving Jetfire a confused look,

"… Why…?"

The officer grinned a bit sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday morning, and I figured I could buy you a couple of drinks and we could… uh… talk about it." He finished lamely. What exactly WERE they going to talk about anyway? He'd have to come up with a few subjects or something, because Starscream didn't look like any kind of conversationalist. But maybe once he drunk a few, the pressure wouldn't all be on Jetfire to-

"No." He unlocked his door and stepped inside, leaving Jetfire to have his turn for a moment of confusion,

"Huh? Uhh… But I-"

"NO." The door shut, and Jetfire stared at it.

Well. That didn't go according to plan.

He was probably just really standoffish because he got a gun pointed at him yesterday. Jetfire probably just scared him, and now Starscream was going to rabbit off whenever they met. Which was totally uncool. The lieutenant was not going to just let it end like this. They were going to have fun, he was going to be forgiven, and then they could start off right and treat each other like normal people. THEN Starscream could be as anti-social as he wanted. Jetfire just didn't want to leave him with a bad impression.

---(Starscream's Apartment)---

_A couple of drinks…_

The door's deadbolt clicked into place, and Starscream glared at the door as he took a step away from it. Couldn't the guy just go away? Geeze…

The bag of groceries was placed on the kitchen counter, and Starscream flipped open his phone while putting various food items into his new fridge. He had to wait for a few rings before Demolisher picked up,

"Demolisher."

"It's Starscream. I talked to Swindle, I'll be meeting someone named Razorwire next week."

"Is your apartment already set up?"

"I just need towels and dishes. I'm going to go get them in a minute."

"Good. Megatron wants things to move faster. He's sending Wheeljack to start looking into the lower parts of town."

"Wh- Already? What kind of excuse am I supposed to make up? This whole family thing is going to get old really fast, because none of us even look-"

"Your problem. Not mine." _Click._

Starscream glared at his phone and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Just what he needed: an overly friendly cop, and more objectives to deal with.

AND a reminder of WHY Starscream didn't drink anymore.

The start of his mentally scarring experience began after a very extensive, very _successful_ outing involving a lot of guns, a notorious outside organization trying to move into their territory, and a lot of said outsiders getting their blood painted on the walls. They'd gotten hold of everything after they killed everyone, and 'everything' happened to be a lot of weaponry, drugs, and money.

The entire Decepticon team celebrated with many, many bottles of Energon, the best drink around. Hookers had been called, take-out food was distributed in large quantities, and they had the entire night to themselves without 'business' getting in the way.

The next morning, however, was a different story. Starscream had woken up in one of several beds available in their proclaimed headquarters, and it hadn't been the one he had unofficially claimed as his. Also, he was naked. Also, the sheets needed to be washed. Also, he was sore in the wrong sort of place for him to have taken one of the girls to bed.

Fifteen minutes, a shower and a fresh set of clothes later, Starscream had stumbled out into the main room with a pounding in his head and fear in his stomach. Who had he slept with? The first person he ran into was Tidal Wave, and Starscream nearly had a meltdown in horror before realizing if it had been Tidal Wave, he probably wouldn't have been able to get out of bed.

Everyone else he ran into resulted in similar horror, and no discerning factor to rule them out. Thrust was a very aggravating option. If it had been him, Starscream would have no choice but to kill either himself or the scheming jack-off. Cyclonus was almost as terrifying a choice as Tidal Wave, and Starscream brutally murdered that thought path before it could get any farther. Before he could run into anyone else, he ran into Wheeljack, and dragged the other into a room before asking what had happened that night.

Wheeljack had given him a bit of a Look before explaining that Starscream had gotten incredibly drunk.

Starscream told him that he was already aware of that, and asked if anything ELSE had happened.

There was a bit of a pause before Wheeljack told Starscream that he had gotten so drunk that they (himself and Wheeljack) had slept together. Starscream gave this a lot of thought in that room (and he'd concluded that of everyone in the base that night, it was probably the best scenario), and Wheeljack waited patiently for any other questions.

Starscream asked for details, and Wheeljack shifted a bit before saying that he had been very… very enthusiastic. And the minute that Starscream had GOTTEN the idea of sex in his drunken state, Wheeljack hardly had to do anything more than get dragged and cornered before-

Starscream shrieked and shoved Wheeljack out of the room before any more details could be told, demanding that this incident never be spoken of again. Wheeljack had agreed, and left Starscream to ponder the horrors of being completely willing (an INSTIGATOR) to have sex with another man when drunk. Because of his current company (the company in which he was most often drunk with), Starscream had solemnly sworn never to drink again.

Without warning, a new line of thought came smacking into him.

What if Megatron had been celebrating with them?

A carton of eggs dropped and smashed open on the floor at the thought of him and Megatron, and he walled off that thought pattern while looking down at the mess of raw eggs on the floor.

No, he was not going to have a drink with that police officer. No way.

---(TBC)---


	8. Day 4: Saturday Evening

Sha-bam. Chapter.

-(Saturday Afternoon)-

There is an art to making explosives: the types of chemicals involved, the amounts in which each chemical is added in, the total of the compound, the color of the fire, what type of smoke, how much is needed for that special sort of 'bang'. Add what kind of container you want, what you want the explosive to accomplish, and you may as well be a chef making any sort of dish and presenting it with any sort of cutlery to a surprise guest.

If you want to give your guest diarrhea, then you cook with laxatives. If you want to shred your enemies, you put things like ball bearings and screws around your explosive. If you want to make your guest full, you serve them plenty of bread and water to cut their meal. If you want to burn down your place, use accelerants and place them around the bomb. If you want your guest to have plenty of energy, you serve plenty of protein. If you want to simply obliterate everything, use plenty of explosives.

You get the idea.

Starscream was going to be cooking for the 'intruder and enemy' sort of guest, with a side of 'destroy all incriminating evidence that can be traced'. Unlike many average citizens, Starscream did not possess guilt regarding neighbors and explosives, and thus would be rigging explosives inside the drywall all around his apartment with plenty of ball bearings and ignition fluid. Whatever (or whoever) was inside the apartment when it went 'ka-bloowy' could be gathered in a match box.

As soon as Wheeljack arrived with the C4 and proper wiring, he could start cooking.

-(Aperture Apartments)-

Let it never be said that Jetfire couldn't take 'no' for an answer. He understood 'no' perfectly fine. It was being able to tell when 'no' would turn into 'yes' later that was the real question, because he was damn sure Starscream was just rejecting his invitation to go drinking for some really stupid reason. Well, being afraid of a guy that pointed a gun at you wasn't stupid, but that's what he was here to apologize for. And Starscream needed to get out and feel the town out anyway. Everyone would benefit. He'd thank Jetfire later.

For now, he was most certainly not abusing his military training, and not setting up an ambush for Starscream. When he stood up and put his jacket on, it was not because he had just heard Starscream's door open and close, it was because he was… er… thirsty. And he did not stop by his partially open door because he was trying to listen in on Starscream's over-the-phone conversation. Jetfire was waiting for the elevator. So was Starscream,

"Tomorrow? … No, I'm going to be looking for a job. … No, I don't have- … Yes, under the desk. … The couch folds out. … When are you bringing what I asked for? … With you? That's a lot to try and fit on a plane th- … That would take twelve hours of driving,"

_Ding._ Elevator doors open. _Click._ Ground floor button pressed.

Jetfire took one long stride out of his door and closed it behind him, already another stride toward the elevator when his door clicked shut. Two more steps and he had a hand on one of the elevator doors as they started to close, stopping them briefly before stepping into the elevator and right next to Starscream. The smaller practically fled to the other side of the elevator, cell phone still held to his ear as he stared at Jetfire. Jetfire, on the other hand, stared directly ahead as the doors closed, trying not to smile too hard.

Step one complete.

"… O… kay…" Starscream's cell phone snapped shut, and was pocketed slowly, clearly giving Jetfire a long and careful look before his body began to relax and resume standing normally in the elevator. Not too close to Jetfire though.

_Ding._

-(Aperture Apartments, The Elevator, Starscream)-

What the _fuck_ was he doing?

Starscream spared Jetfire another glance as he hung-up on Wheeljack, having narrowly suppressed the reflex to strike the police officer down. That whole bolting to the corner of the elevator was not out of surprise and fear. It was because he was unarmed, and he would need a different form of leverage if attacked. … Really.

_Ding._

Starscream walked out of the elevator after a moment of (uncomfortable/suspicious) silence, glancing back at Jetfire and observing the red-head following right after him. He quickened his pace, but Jetfire's goddamn long legs kept up with him easily. They exited the door toward the side-walk, Starscream heading for his car and already fumbling for his keys. Unfortunately he would never make it.

Jetfire followed almost directly behind him, and swooped an arm through Starscream's, redirecting the assassin to a bright red sports car with ease. Starscream sputtered and stumbled out of fury,

"WHAT the-"

"_We_ are going to a bar, _I_ am going to take the stick out of your ass, and _you're_ going to have a good time. Then if you still want to be all weird, you can ignore me or whatever. But just give being social a chance this time around. You can't just hole up in your room forever." Jetfire clicked his car remote, and the lights flashed. His arm tightened slightly around Starscream's when the brunette tried to tug himself free,

"I arrived _three_ days ago! I haven't had _time_ to be social yet!" he snarled, catching his stride back and trying to dig his heels into the pavement.

"So now is a great time to start! It'll be fun, and you aren't doing anything today." The light application of breaks did absolutely nothing to Jetfire's stride.

"I have shopping to do!"

"Beh, the stores will be open later, I won't be. Drinks now, shopping later. You can make friends!" they both stopped at the sports car and Jetfire released Starscream's arm, opening the door to the passenger seat and simply waiting.

Starscream was half crouched, having been expecting Jetfire to throw him into the car and essentially kidnap him. He stared at the taller man, who just offered a bit of a happy smile and shrugged, clearly waiting for Starscream's decision,

"It's your choice. But you woulda just said no if I asked you inside." And the bastard didn't look a bit guilty.

He was right after all.

And Megatron had told him to create a connection with the police force. He was practically famous for being anti-social and ill-tempered, so this was actually… his best chance at creating legitimate friends for his image.

Goddamnit.

Starscream got in the car. And he saw Jetfire grin before shutting the door.

-(Surge, Local Bar/Restaurant ((mostly bar)))-

Friends.

Silverware.

Hell.

These were all related. In Starscream's mind, they were so, _so_ very related.

It was a safe bet that Starscream didn't really have friends, and therefore he did not understand the concept of 'friends'. This also rendered a majority of social niceties utterly obsolete to him, since he had a very limited concept of 'nice'. How did a friendship work? Perhaps it was like a partnership, but with social favors instead of business favors. What the hell did those social favors consist of? He heard that helping someone move in was a form of friendship. Or social debt. Or something.

… Helping fix one bed did not count. No way. It did not count, and Starscream was not already socially in debt to this man, who at the moment was talking about a 'Police Day' at some school later that week,

"I mean, he's competent and everything, but I think we'll just empty the magazine in his gun anyway. Chances are nothing is going to happen, but better safe than sorry, right? Hotshot can do damage control if something DOES happen, so…"

Starscream's gaze lingered on his set of silverware. A knife (blunt-tipped) and a fork. Oh the things he could do with those. Or, more accurately, the things he _couldn't_ do with those.

This was some kind of personalized hell. A hell where he couldn't kill people, no matter how badly he wanted to, and no matter how easy they were making it. Maybe it was all some kind of test to make sure Starscream could handle all walks of life. Soundwave and Shockwave handled people with relative ease, despite their own homicidal tendencies. If he could handle the low-lifes and the high-class folks (though his patience hadn't proven enough in the past) then he could handle any situation. Like the one right in front of him,

"What do you think?"

Starscream blinked and looked up at Jetfire, who was tilting his head a little and smiling amiably, patiently.

Shit, what had he asked him?

-(Jetfire)-

It was obvious that Starscream's attention was wandering. You don't just stare at silverware in a blank trance because you're listening to what someone is saying. Starscream was probably hungry. (for BLOOD) Both of them were waiting for pasta at the moment, and Jetfire planned to chase the food with plenty of alcohol. He, after all, was a police officer and knew how to drink responsibly. The starch in the pasta would absorb the alcohol better than most foods, and the breadsticks they were having with it would absorb alcohol the best. That way they could stay coherent for a while.

Oh yeah, he had this whole 'bonding and forgiving me for pointing a gun at you' thing all worked out. He even had a cab number in his back pocket. Jetfire grinned at Starscream's blank look,

"You weren't paying attention, were you?"

"… uhh…"

"Yeah, figured with the way you were staring into space like that. I know, I'm all boring and stuff. How about you then? Any plans this week?" Jetfire grinned from his proverbial high ground. Starscream fidgeted a little and looked away,

"Ehh… shopping? Job hunting," hand wave, "Meeting a friend."

"In town? Oh that's cool, you've already got friends here then. Who is it?"

"Not sure yet. Friend of a friend of uncle's." Starscream met Jetfire's eyes for a moment before looking away.

Right. Starscream's uncles… about them.

"Ehh… your uncle… Cyclonus, right? Is he…?" Jetfire watched as Starscream's attention immediately flicked back. He was sensing a bit of a sore spot here…

"… Is he what?" Starscream asked patiently. Jetfire floundered a little,

"I dunno… always like that? He's kinda… err… eccentric."

Starscream scoffed and leaned back in his chair.

"You should see him when he isn't in public."

"… Worse?" Jetfire cringed a bit as he watched Starscream.

"Way worse."

"Ah-huh. He get into trouble?" Jetfire asked. Starscream just grunted in reply, "What about getting him some help?"

Starscream actually laughed at that one.

"Help? He is so beyond help that he'd consider it a foreign nation. He'd probably shoot first."

"Well, if you cared about him you could at least try," Jetfire shrugged. Starscream just scoffed and looked away, tilting his chair back a bit as he looked at not-Jetfire. It wasn't really Jetfire's business, but a family as dysfunctional as Starscream's could probably use any bit of help, "He cares about you, you know."

Starscream stared at him dubiously, saying nothing and simply letting silence demonstrate how wrong and stupid he felt that statement was. It made Jetfire sigh on the inside, and squirm a bit uncomfortably on the outside, "I'm just sayin' he helped you move in, okay? Oh look, our food is here." Thank God. The look Starscream was giving him was rather bordering on 'this conversation is over'.

The geeky looking waiter put down two plates of tortellini with meat sauce. Two bread sticks each accompanied the plates. Starscream immediately started eating, obviously quite happy with a distraction. Jetfire also started eating, trying to think of a different subject, because that last one was clearly a dead end.

Half-way through the meal, Jetfire finally came up with something. At this point, anything would do, "What do you like to drink?"

Starscream took his time to finish his mouthful before replying, "High-grade energon."

Jetfire laughed a bit.

"The green stuff? I didn't know a college boy drank anything other than beer." He grinned, watching as Starscream smirked a bit and poked a few pieces of pasta into line before spearing them,

"Well I do. I just don't drink it that often."

"Good thing there, that stuff is expensive. Doesn't it taste kind of…?"

"Metallic? Yeah, it does. Something about the containers it's made in." Starscream shrugged, eyeing one of his bread sticks before prodding it into the sauce and taking a bite.

Silence stretched again, and Jetfire focused on his pasta while thinking. He was starting to notice a pattern; All of Starscream's replies had a sort of… finality to them. They didn't invite conversation; they just replied to questions and offered nothing in return. It was like Starscream wasn't just anti-social, he was actually _bad_ at being social. Which explained a lot.

Well hey, maybe Jetfire could help with that? Because he really wasn't going to get anywhere else if Starscream couldn't drive his social-mobile.

He grinned and looked up, slightly surprised to see Starscream staring suspiciously at him. Jetfire blinked, before grinning again,

"You're not very good at this, are you?"

"Good at what?" Starscream's eyes narrowed marginally, making Jetfire grin even more.

"You know… this." Jetfire gestured at the both of them across the table, and he watched as Starscream studied his face, then where he was gesturing. The brunette looked down at their table, face screwing up slightly with thought,

"… Eat pasta?" Hell, he wasn't just bad at it, he didn't even know he was bad at it.

Jetfire laughed aloud, and a look from Starscream quieted him into chuckles which became difficult to represss, "Just… uh… hehehehe… talking. With people I mean. You aren't good at relaxing around people, and you haven't said a word unless I started first. You just kind of glare at people. Like you're doing right now." Jetfire couldn't restrain the little laugh that came out despite the 'I will murder you' look he was getting. He was so serious, it was funny. Like a little cat that bristled at everything you did. Starscream must have a stick the size of a full-grown tree up his ass. He sat really straight too.

"… That obvious, huh." Starscream's voice was quiet, eyes laid carefully on Jetfire as he looked… well, he didn't really look angry. It was like he was waiting for Jetfire to make the next move. Which really wasn't any different from five minutes ago,

"Well, c'mon, with role models like Cyclonus-"

Starscream scoffed and cut him off, leaning back in his chair and rolling his eyes,

"I didn't meet Cyclonus until I was fifteen, and that fucker annoyed the hell out of me when I first met him," He crossed his arms, "He isn't my 'role model' or anything, just… family." It looked like he was ready to settle into a good sulk.

But Jetfire wasn't gonna let that happen, not when he was actually talking with some interest (good or bad) in the subject,

"Well then who did you look up to?"

Starscream let out a derisive 'pff' and looked away, "No one," he replied. Jetfire didn't say anything else, simply waiting patiently for more information. A few seconds later, Starscream looked back at his pasta, then up at Jetfire. Then he seemed to realize that Jetfire was waiting for more information,

"Really; No One. Mom left when I was a kid, and dad goes overseas on business. My family isn't all that friendly, and they didn't raise me to be social." Starscream sought refuge in the remains of his pasta, trying to just drop the subject. Jetfire waited a few seconds before spreading his hands out,

"Well?" His question made Starscream pause and look up from his pasta,

"… What?"

"Well what did they raise you to be? A scientist?" Jetfire slumped back into his chair, waiting for an answer. Starscream seemed to pause before tossing his fork back into his mostly finished pasta and leaning back, giving up on the pasta,

"No. They didn't raise me to be anything. I was left on my own." Starscream's fingers interlocked to rest above his lap, elbows on the arms of his chair, clearly waiting to see if Jetfire was satisfied. Who just sort of stared,

"Sooo… no adults? Nothing? Friends at school at least?" Jetfire's voice lilted from question to doubtful hope at the look on Starscream's face,

"… No. Private school. Assholes," He looked over at the bar, then back at Jetfire and muttering, "Getting a drink." Before getting up and leaving. Jetfire sat at the table and stared at the vacant chair. Jeezus, no wonder Starscream was dysfunctional.

But hey, moving out was almost like starting over, right? Starscream now had a chance to actually learn how to be a person. And Jetfire can help him. This was gonna be fun.

Jetfire picked up both plates and walked back to the bar, nodding to the bar tender and gesturing slightly with the plates. They'd just add the drinks to the food bill and pay at the end. Both plates were stacked, set aside, and taken away. Jetfire settled with standing next to Starscream and shifting a bit awkwardly. He turned and opened his mouth, but got a drink shoved in his face,

"Shut up and drink." Starscream mumbled, setting down the glass of scotch and nudging it over to Jetfire. In the mean time, he drank from the cube-shaped glass filled with Energon. Jetfire observed his glass before drinking it and cringing. Not his usual drink.

The scotch was set back down on the bar, and nudged around a bit. Then Jetfire looked over at Starscream and his drink,

"I want what you're having."

"Then order one."

"But I wanna try it first."

"Get your own."

"Psh, just let me try it."

"No. Hey! You-"

"Chill man."

"Fuck you."

"Ow. My virgin ears. Geeeh, this is strong."

"So give it back."

"Well maybe I like strong."

"Get your own goddamn drink."

-(TBC)-


	9. Day 5: Sunday

Wheeljack is Asian because… his face was yellow… yellow equals… Asian… nurr…

-( Aperture Apartments, Starscream's Apartment)-

_Water running. Water turned off. Clink. Shifting noises. Boot steps._

Starscream slowly curled on some soft surface, feeling sheets shift under him as he moved. Fabric gave way under his fingers as he flexed his hands. Someone was in the kitchen. In _his_ kitchen. And he was in his bed, feeling groggy.

Several thoughts ran through his head; drugged? Enemy? Had he been hit in the head? Who was in the kitchen?

His back tightened and his arms grabbed onto the edge of the bed, pulling him sharply to the side and slipping him silently to the floor. The stealth was practiced, but the hangover was new. Starscream hissed as his sudden elevation brought an imaginary spear through his skull, doubling him over and making him grab at the bed for support.

A hand ran through his hair, confirming no injuries were present. Which meant he had a hangover. Which meant he'd gotten drunk. Which… meant…

Starscream's eyes raised to his doorway, feeling resolve trying to fight through abstract horror. The resolve was losing and begging for compromise. His arms trembled on the sheets slightly as he gripped them and checked himself.

He was still entirely clothed, nothing out of place. Nothing new in his pants. And the bed was clean.

Hadn't he been drinking with Jetfire?

Starscream leaned closer to the floor, running his hand along the bottom edge of the bed and ripping away the handgun duct taped there. The lower altitude felt good, and his eyes ached as he looked up at the doorway and held still. His thumb had already taken the safety off, and there was already a round in the chamber.

Wheeljack stood in the doorway, in socks, with a cup of hot coffee. Where the hell did he get the coffee? Starscream didn't have a coffee maker.

Wheeljack's sharp gold eyes regarded Starscream without emotion, his short platinum blonde hair immaculate as usual. The slightly spiked hair gave him a frigid look, and made his Asian features stick out more. He glanced at the bed, then at the gun, "… It is two-thirty in the afternoon."

Initially, there was no response, and then Starscream looked over at the clock. He cursed and put the safety back on the gun, using the bed to push himself up while tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants. His head throbbed immediately.

"And you are hungover." Wheeljack observed, maintaining his perfect posture as he drank his coffee.

"Shut up," Starscream growled, rubbing both temples as he slowly straightened and walked around the other Decepticon, bumping into the wall slightly. What had happened last night? It didn't look like anything had… _happened_, but that didn't mean it hadn't, "Wheeljack, was there… anyone else in the apartment when you got here?"

There was a pause before he answered, and the pause was long enough that Starscream turned around with concern.

"Were you expecting someone?" Wheeljack's expression revealed absolutely nothing as to what he thought about the question.

Starscream colored, "No. Just… wondering." He grumbled angrily, stomping into the kitchen and cursing his shame and embarrassment. Starscream didn't like being embarrassed…

Wheeljack followed him into the kitchen, setting down a now empty cup while Starscream grabbed a glass and filled it with water,

"I did not see anyone. Were you wondering if while you were drunk-"

"YES," Starscream snapped, shutting the water off and turning on Wheeljack, "Don't remind me of that, okay? I was out drinking with that cop." He cut himself off by drinking the glass of water, hanging onto the countertop as he drank.

Damnit. Two-thirty. He was supposed to be going to get a job today, and it was already two-thirty. It wouldn't do to show up anywhere hung over and looking for a job. Damn Jetfire and his social drinking…

Wheeljack hadn't said anything, not that such a thing was unusual, and merely stared at Starscream before walking to the living room couch and putting a few things into his pockets. Starscream leaned forward on the counter and put a hand over his eyes, moaning softly,

"… I will be back later." Wheeljack stated, making Starscream slowly raise his head to peek over his hands. The Asian man walked toward the door, opened it, and shut it behind him without another look or a word. Starscream wondered vaguely how he'd gotten in to begin with.

Oh right, Demolisher had made a spare key…

What was security coming to these days?

-(Jetfire's Apartment)-

Jetfire believed that whoever invented Sunday was a very wise and thoughtful person. Through Sundays, you can recover from whatever the hell you did Friday night to Saturday. You could also use it for an extra day of continued 'whatever the hell' and damn the consequences.

While such a thing had happened in the past, Jetfire had decided to use this day as a day of relaxation, and he enjoyed it with some coffee in his creamer. The kitchen was still a mess, and a day of cleaning was set for next Saturday, just like it always was. Maybe he could get some help cleaning it, which would certainly ensure it got done next Saturday. Starscream's place looked pretty neat, and he was uptight enough for Jetfire to believe he was always that neat.

Which reminded him…

Starscream was actually a pretty funny guy. Past the anti-social asshole exterior, he was funny and talkative and a very friendly drunk. Which was unexpected, but kind of cool. He knew… jokes. Which was probably the most unexpected thing of all.

Jetfire could recall their conversations clearly and did so with great enjoyment. Mostly because it was just so funny…

But even more so because it got kind of interesting.

-(Last Night at the Bar)—

"And… And he says 'I know, you've done nothing but bitch since you got here'." Starscream laughed, leaning over the counter a bit more than he needed to, shoulders hunched while his back bowed in relaxation. Three cube shaped glasses were clustered to Starscream's left, and all of them were empty.

Jetfire laughed and slapped at his own thigh lightly, some distant part of his mind surprised at the subtlety of the joke.

Things had cooled and become much less awkward when Jetfire had shifted the conversation away from personal details, instead talking about meaningless topics like jokes and complaints at the police station. Starscream had started with a smirk after a cube of energon, and now he was full on laughing, body lax looking even though it spasmed with chuckles.

"Oh man… and I have to look for a job tomorrow…" Starscream laughed, sinking a bit closer to the counter while he swirled his half-full cube of energon. He let out a brief snort, and dropped his head on his arm, raising the glass up, "But here I am, getting wasted. Always get hung over on energon… probably won't remember _shit_…" he giggled a little.

The giggle was infectious, and Jetfire laughed lightly just to join in. His own alcoholic beverages varied greatly on the counter since he didn't drink often, and had just asked to be surprised, "Hahaha… any uh… any idea of what you're looking for?" Jetfire gestured vaguely with his glass. In response, Starscream turned his head slightly to look at the cop without raising his head. The look was solemn at first, but it broke into a snort of laughter,

"I… I have no idea. Whatever is available I guess," the hand holding his glass up wavered around in vague circular motions, "I mean, I just need the job for… for the job," there was a drunken pause as whatever thoughts came next were strung up correctly, "But god I do not want to work in customer service," he giggled, turning his head again to hide his eyes against his arm while his shoulders shook, "Ffff-hate people. But there are these… these rules," Starscream slightly extended a finger on the hand that was holding his drink to point at nothing in particular, "That get you in trouble for trying to get rid of them." He abruptly sat up more and drank more of his energon. Jetfire just laughed,

"Yeaaah… I know what you mean. There are a bunch of… of… of cool, awesome,_ groovy_ people out there," Starscream interrupted briefly with a snort of 'groovy' into his drink, "And and… and then there are these… flaming assholes! And you don't even know where they come from! You just wanna ask 'where the hell do all of you come from?', but you don't 'cause it's rude and they're probably not gonna answer 'cause they're an asshole." The latter half of his statement became muffled by his own drink as he raised the glass of whatever-the-hell-it's-called-mixture-of-booze and finished it off. Once done, the glass was put back on the table harder than it needed to be.

Not-terribly-awkward-because-we-are-drunk silence followed and hung around for almost a minute, during which Starscream finished his fourth cube of energon with mild violence and pillowed his head on the counter with his arms hiding his face. His hips swiveled side to side slightly on the rotating bar stool, proving that he was not entirely dead. Jetfire watched him without really looking or seeing him, before looking back at his collection of empty drinks. His having-dealt-with-drunks senses were tingling vaguely as he stared at their drinks, and then stared at Starscream.

Being drunk was fun. Being drunk in public was not nearly as fun for other people. They should probably go… or something.

Jetfire gave Starscream a poke in the ribs, watching as the smaller man twitched a bit and abruptly sat up, turning on the barstool to fully face Jetfire with a deadpan, hazy drunk face. It was hilarious to look at, and the officer had to fight down the urge to start laughing. Which didn't mean he was above a few strangled snorts, "You are… so drunk." He'd meant to say something more along the lines of 'hey, it's getting late so we should go,' or 'let's go before we get even more smashed,' but such thought patterns were difficult to formulate into a concise sentence.

"Pfft. I can… totally… drink more." Starscream waved, backhanding Jetfire's shoulder with no real effort and turning back to the bar in the same motion. He began to raise a hand before Jetfire slapped it down heavily, taking it right down to the counter and just holding it there clumsily.

"No, man. You can't." there was some finality in his voice, having clearly reached a conclusion that hadn't involved Starscream's opinion at all. The brunette was obviously a little ticked at being told what to do, and jerked his hand away with an annoyed puff of breath,

"Says who?"

"Says… the person… who is paying." Jetfire replied, dragging his hand back to fish around for his wallet. The motion was sluggish, and he turned his head and raised a hand to ask the barkeeper for the check. Multitasking was a bit hard at the moment.

"Wha? Why?" Starscream turned in the swivly stool to look at him, looking vague, confused and slightly suspicious. It took a while for Jetfire to answer, and when he did it was because he finally got his wallet out and plopped it down on the counter,

"'Cause," he accepted the check from the bartender, "I… I pointed that gun at you down the hall like… two… days ago." He stared at the bill. Jeeze, energon was expensive.

Starscream just scoffed, spinning on the stool and leaning his back against the counter, "Psh. That wasn't that bad. I've got a gun pointed at me before by… by a different guy… guys," he waved, "I'm not afraid of you if that's what you think."

"Oh yeah…?" Jetfire asked, weaving a little on the stool as he handed a credit card over and waited for it to come back. He looked curiously over his shoulder at Starscream, interested in the statement, "You get scared by them?"

Starscream laughed, letting his head drop back and exposing his neck from his high-collar jacket, "Yeah… yeah I guess… I get scared until I get close enough to get 'em." He swiped in front of himself to illustrate, letting out a brief chuckle.

Jetfire let out a scoff of good humor, amused, "Yeah… that whole… long range thing… kinda like… in that Indiana Jones movie, with that guy with the sword, and then he just gets shot…"

"Yeah, long range stuff." Starscream waved a hand, head lilting slightly as he looked at Jetfire.

His credit card was returned to him, along with his customer receipt. Starscream wobbled off the bar stool a bit and then walked toward the door with minimal difficulty. Jetfire followed, patting at himself for his phone and the taxi number.

-(Starscream's Apartment, Sunday afternoon)—

Starscream was bent over the counter with a glass of ice pressed against his temple. And it really wasn't doing anything different other than making a cold, slightly wet spot on his head.

Okay okay, today wouldn't be a total waste. He could go and fill out some job applications with the resume he'd gotten from Demolisher, and then go grocery shopping for everything else he was missing. Hopefully without any kind of hiccup in the day, and maybe (just _maybe_) without Jetfire.

Those book stores usually had jobs open where you stock books and don't talk to customers, right? Then he could actually research chemistry while working there… Which sounded like a very good idea.

He also needed to get into contact with that club owner. That man was supposed to be his way into the underground in this city…

It sounded like he'd need a list to keep all this shit straight for today. And he could use a shower to at least try and freshen up.

And naturally no matter what else he did, fate would conspire to have him leave his apartment at the same time Jetfire did, who looked not at all hung over and in fact happy to see him. Both of them waited at the elevator, and Starscream pointedly didn't look at the cop. Jetfire rocked back and forth on his heels, and Starscream didn't have to look at him to know that the red head was smiling. Probably about last night, goddamnit.

"Soo… going out for groceries? 'Cause I am too." Jetfire asked, clearly asking if Starscream was going to come with him please.

Well, if that's what Jetfire was doing, then that was the absolutely last fucking thing on Starscream's list of things to do,

"No. I've got other errands."

"Ah. Okay."

Silence… Goddamn elevator.

Jetfire shifted a little next to him, and Starscream's peripheral vision caught the cop looking at him curiously, "… Soo… you said last night that you've had experience with guns."

Starscream gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers angrily. Damnit! Of all the goddamn things he could have talked about around the cop, that had come up?

The assassin shifted his weight a little side to side, "… yeah. I'm not really big into them, but I was taught how to deal with them."

"Oh… you mean like a self-defense class?" Jetfire's shoulders relaxed and rolled a little as the elevator dinged and opened in front of them. Both of them stepped in and Starscream was considering the stairs from now on.

"Yeah, like a self-defense class." He agreed, not about to suggest otherwise. Jetfire provided the answer he wanted to hear anyway.

"Oh, that's cool. … So… you ever got shot?" he sifted a little uncomfortably, obviously still trying to maintain a conversation while wondering if he was treading on touchy territory. Starscream was vaguely wondering if this was about bravado…

"Yeah." He could swear the whole elevator became empathetic in response.

"Ouch… what happened?" His tone suggested it was a question of a question, and one that didn't demand an answer if Starscream didn't want to answer it.

Starscream just sighed and idly thought back to the last time he'd been shot, "Two years ago in the shoulder," he tapped his left shoulder to illustrate, pointing his finger at the hollow area right below his collar bone, "Home invasion." It had been Starscream invading the home.

Jetfire seemed to still even more, clearly feeling awkward. Starscream saw him glance at his shoulder when he moved his hand back down to his side.

"Was it bad?" the cop's voice was quiet as he asked, and Starscream sighed again, thinking.

"No. Not as bad as it could have been." Like the time he got shot in the chest twice… That had nearly killed him.

The elevator doors dinged open, freeing both of them from the awkward moment. Starscream dug around for his keys while walking toward the lobby door and Jetfire kept pace with him easily. His slower movements suggested that he was thinking about something, and his eyebrows were knitted slightly in thought. Nothing passed between them as they exited the building, and they had both taken several steps toward their respective cars before Jetfire spoke up again,

"Starscream! Uh… I need you to fill out a witness report for that accident. Do you have time tomorrow to come by the station?" the tone of his voice suggested he was still trying to recover from their awkward moment in the elevator and his newfound information.

Starscream tensed at the thought of being back in a police station again, scowling at his car. But he knew he would have to do it… of course he would have to do it. He turned around and shrugged a little,

"Sure. What time?" He'd completely forgotten about freakin' witness reports…

Jetfire shrugged, nonchalance coming back to his posture as he offered a smile, "I dunno. Anytime before five."

Well then he'd put that off to the last goddamn minute.

In response Starscream just gave a nod, turning and looking through his keys before unlocking his truck. What the hell else was he supposed to do to get good contacts in the police department once he was in there? He sucked at small talk. That was more of Thrust's area.

He started his engine, putting the truck into reverse as he mulled the idea of going to a police station willingly. It would be different…

He could probably pull it off it he just looked confused and asked for directions or something. People tended to like it better when they figured they were in control.

-(TBC)-


End file.
